Masks
by CallYouByYourName
Summary: Halloween Jalex fic. What if the masks that protect them started to slip?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Masks

**Fandom:** Wizards of Waverly Place

**Word Count:** 4,719 (Chapter 1)

**Rating/Content:** Jalex, duh. I'm going to say this is PG-13... but more for insinuation than anything else.

**Spoilers/episodes:** Finale episode, "Who Will be the Family Wizard."

**A/N:** Halloween Fic! My god, I love Halloween! I've loved writing this Jalex Halloween fic, and with any luck, maybe you'll love reading it. Because, come on. Wizards? Halloween? WIZARDS? HALLOWEEN?

(I rest my case.)

...This is still a work in progress, but the last chapter will be published by All Hallow's Eve, so help me Jack.

This is a future-fic, set slightly less than a year after the Russo family Wizard Competition. Justin's still the Headmaster of Wiz-Tech, Alex is still a Wizard, and there are still more than a few unresolved issues in the air between our favorite pair of siblings.

**Betas:** My sincere (and very deserved!) gratitude goes out to my beta- buddies **TheWolfHourx** (aka **UsexSomebodyx**) and **mktoddsparky**, who both dropped what they were doing to review and revise this story in all its unfinished glory, and I can't thank them enough. This one is both really important to me and much longer than I realized. Whatever your opinion of my writing in general and this story in particular, believe me when I say that this story is much better for their help. Also, they've both been rather mysteriously silent lately, so I suggest you look up their WOWP fics, and if you love them, review them so that these two excellent authors will have a reason to come back to our twisted little family.

**R/R:** As always, love is appreciated. Got some love? Give it here. Concrits, on the other hand, will be received with less joy but just as much gratitude. I write faster when I'm being told how great I am. Don't you?

**Disclaimer:** I don't Wizards of Waverly Place, or anything else that might look familiar.

* * *

**Summary:**

"Masks hide what you are, Alex"

"Or they make you look like something you're not."

Justin sighs. "It's the same thing."

(But honestly, it's not.)

* * *

"Trick or treat!"

Caught off guard, Professor Justin Russo lurches backward, away from the monster's leering face, dropping half the stack of papers he's carrying. The hand holding his coffee jitters, then dashes the still-fragrant warmth all over the front of his carefully pressed dress white dress shirt, probably staining it for good.

Alex hopes it wasn't too hot.

...But it is pretty funny to watch him dance around, trying to keep his papers from falling while pressing a hand to the coffee stains on his shirt.

Pushing her monster-mask up and out of the way, grinning, Alex stoops to help him gather his papers. "A little jumpy, Professor?"

Justin grimaces. "When I'm accosted in my private offices at an ungodly hour of the morning,_ yes_. What exactly are you doing here?"

Alex's lips, painted a dark plum just this side of black, purse in a moue of hurt. "What? A girl can't stop by to say hello to her big brother now and then?"

Across the spilled paperwork, Justin's eyes narrow in frank suspicion. "It's three in the morning, Alex. How'd you even know where to find me?"

She shrugs nonchalant, saying, "I just had a feeling you'd be here, is all." Her smile, all false sweetness, is nonetheless engaging. It's a smile that makes him want to smile back, makes him want to believe her, though he knows from experience that the statistical probability of Alex telling the truth is practically zero. She's always been his weakness.

"I mean, come on. Where else would you be, on a Friday night?" Alex adds when her brother doesn't respond. "This is you we're talking about here. Not somebody with, say, a social life..."

_Saturday morning_, he thinks, and doesn't say. Instead, he says, "What do you want, Alex?"

She goes all indignant then, scowling at him. "What makes you think I want something?"

Justin rolls his eyes. "Because every other time you've come to see me, you've needed money-"

"Hello? Getting it magically is against the rules! I thought you wanted me to follow the rules, Justin!"

"-or administrative favors-"

"You're the headmaster! You know, the big guy in charge of all the school stuff in the most important school in the Wizard World? I'm supposed to _not exploit that_? Have we met?" Alex flings her arms in the air, exasperated by his stupidity. And nearly smacking Justin, who ducks just in time.

"…or for me to come to the rescue when you mess up with your ridiculous, irresponsible, barely legal use of magic!" He's almost shouting now. The two of them are still crouched close to the ground, still too close to each other. Alex glances around the wide hallway, marked with alcoves, but it's empty: no audience. Just the two of them.

With a grimace, she stands up. Justin does too.

"That," she says, shoving a sheaf of paper into his arms, "you should be used to."

Professor Russo signs in resignation, detouring to hand the sadly crumpled coffee cup to the nearest trash-hands. "Come on, walk with me," he grumbles. I have to drop these off. And you can fill me in on your latest Evil Plan." Still, there's a hint of a smile playing at the edges of his lips, and in his eyes. Alex takes his arm, and they walk.

"It's weird," Alex mumbles after a moment. She appears to be talking to herself more than anything - she's never been able to handle silence for long. "I mean, it's funny to think that it's been such a long time since we went to school here, since before you got so important and all," with a sidelong glance that Justin pretends not to notice. "It just seems so much, I don't know, smaller?"

Justin doesn't say anything - still sulking about the coffee and the remark about his social life - but he thinks he knows what she means. It seems _less_, somehow. The halls of Wiz-Tec are much smaller and less menacing than Justin remembers them from childhood, but just as old and dark. There's still an oppressive feeling in the air like a bad smell.

"_Okay, you're magical_," the walls seems to say, _"so go ahead and make your magic. But make it OUR WAY. Or else."_

As is so often the case, Alex seems to read his mind almost before the thought is complete. Wrinkling her nose, she wonders aloud how Justin can stand it. Aren't there, like, special quarters for the headmaster to live and work in?

Justin sighs. "For the millionth time, Alex, I like being close to the student body." She'll never really understand his passion for teaching, he knows that. Helping others when there's nothing to be gained is completely beyond her.

"Any student body in particular?"

Justin doesn't dignify that with a response, although he struggles to keep his flaming cheeks hidden.

Alex's black-plum lips curl up at the corners, amused by his lack of response. This particular tactic of Justin's, namely his pointed silence, has never worked particularly well on Alex- Almost invariably, she'll end up treating it as an invitation to keep talking, just to make sure she doesn't give him the upper hand. She does so now.

"How is Juliet, by the way," she presses. Already, her falsely conciliatory tone is enough to raise her brother's hackles. One of the unwritten rules between them, now, is that they don't talk about Juliet. Alex pretends to ignore the way he stiffens.

They know this routine by heart, after all. It's a little dance they like to do, sidestepping around dangerous topics as if walking the edge of a cliff, while beneath them the ground trembles, threatening to crumble at any moment. It's all part of it: the teasing and the counter-teasing, the veiled affection and the knife-sharp games, the banter that is only half play. And, right now, the tension in Justin's posture at the sound of his lover's name in his little sister's mouth.

"Alex…" he warns.

She widens her eyes. "I'm just asking!" His face says he's not convinced, lips thinning into a tight line. "You're my brother, Justin," Alex adds, attempting to placate him. "My dear, dear brother, the salt of the earth, always hospitable, a regular prince of a guy who never minds doing a little favor for a friend in need… and dear old Fangy-face is practically the love of your life! Why wouldn't I ask about her?"

"Fangy-face… _practically_?" The little vein in his temple begins to pulse. The precipice looms. It's never long in coming, when they're together, alone.

Alex plows ahead as though he hasn't spoken.

"And here I thought I was finally getting the hang of this whole "politeness" deal," she muses, squeezing his arm and smirking as he stiffens up again. She pronounces "politeness" as if it's a mildly disgusting social disease, or a nasty but unavoidable chore.

Justin's jaw tightens.

"I thought I was _supposed_ to ask. No?" Alex pushes him. Her expression is composed, innocent, like she has no idea what she's doing to him. She looks up at him through her dark lashes. He almost walks right into the locked office door, stopping just in time.

Justin's stomach turns over, and he wishes he hadn't made the mistake of looking at her. He wishes, really wishes, that he'd left work on time. There was just so much grading left to do, and midterms looming.

And there's another reason, of course: Justin really doesn't like sleeping alone. When he comes to work early and leaves late, it's much easier to ignore Juliet's increasingly frequent absences. Butt Alex doesn't need to know about that.

Ever since the family Wizard Competition, and following a never-discussed interaction between the two women at the celebratory party afterward, Alex has made no secret of her dislike for Justin's girlfriend. She hasn't elaborated on why, exactly, but their superficial-but-friendly-relationship, her tacit approval of Juliet as Justin's first serious girlfriend with normal feet, vanished as if it had never existed. Justin sometimes wonders about that. Okay, sometimes is an understatement. But Juliet has been unusually taciturn as well, and Justin's sense of self-preservation is way, way too strong for him to consider bringing it up to either of the two most terrifying women in his life.

Justin sighs, trying to clear his head. Reaching into his left-hand pocket, he pulls out a ring of skeleton keys and sifts through them until he finds the right one. It turns easily in the lock, and the door open to reveal an office cast in shadows.

"She's fine, Alex." Moving to the other side of the office, he begins to sort the stack of papers into a set of cubbyholes. "Thank you so much for asking. How's, uh, Zane?" Justin doesn't think he's actually met Zane, but like always his mind conjures an unpleasant image of a high school drop-out with greasy hair and a a lecherous grin. In Justin's mind, her seemingly-endless string of boyfriends are always the same: not good enough.

"Zane was last week," Alex scoffs, as if he should know. "Look, can we go get a coffee or something? These heels are killing me."

Heels? As if able to hear his unspoken question, she rocks back on one spiked heel to display the other to him, her face an exaggerated contortion agony. Justin, who always learns from his mistakes except where Alex is concerned, looks.

He's immediately sorry. His baby sister, who's hardly a baby these days (though she certainly acts like one most of the time), is sporting tall suede fuck-me boots with wicked heels, black and soft and molded to her long legs. Justin's familiar with them (oh, what! It's not as if he's paying attention! Alex wears a lot of boots, that's all.) Yep: These are the kind of shoes she wears when she's on the prowl. (Of course, when is she not on the prowl, these days? Ever since things ended with Mason, it's like, well, like she's looking for something. Or running from something... but he doesn't shuts the door on that line of thought in a hurry. She's just being Alex, that's all.) And he's not going to get started on the abbreviated length of her short, flounced skirt, (not that he's looking at that either, it's just that it's hard not to notice, alright?). Face hot, he looks away.

His sister laughs.

After he regains his composure, Justin coughs once or twice and says gruffly, "If they really hurt that much, maybe you shouldn't be wearing them." He cocks one eyebrow. "Just a suggestion."

Alex rolls her eyes.

* * *

They end up at the Shamrock, a run-down Leprechaun joint in a questionable part of town. The dingy "bakery", not far from the Ghost District, is really just a glorified all-night diner. Once, it had been part of the successful 'Leprechaun Grill' franchise. However, when the Grill went out of business, the new owners had changed the name to Shamrock, expanded the donut selection and hours, and had hunkered down to weather the dreadful economy, which even Wizard World had taken a beating. It's a dive, but it's a dive with personality. It's also got passable coffee and the best deep-friend delicacies for quite a few miles around. Plus, it's open at this hour of the night. So that's a plus.

Over the last year or so, Justin and Alex have washed up here more than once. She tends to show up unannounced, during the small hours, when Justin's apt to be up working late, left alone in his big empty school building. They never eat at the Wiz-Tech cafeteria. The school's cafe is open 24/7, but Alex refuses to set foot in it, claiming it once gave her food poisoning. Justin suspects that her being banned from the premises is closer to the truth. And, although neither one of them would want to admit it, the fact that they're pretty unlikely to cross paths with either Justin's Schnuggly BooBoo Mcutiekins or Alex's current "flavor of the week", at the Shamrock, is something of a relief.

A few Sure an' Begorah's later, the two Russo siblings make their way through the painfully green interior, cradling plastic baskets heavy with homemade donuts still hot from the fryer, and Styrofoam cups steaming with hot chocolate. The restaurant is all but deserted.

Justin slips into a vacant booth and Alex slips in right beside him, instead of sitting across from him like she's supposed to, wiggling to make herself comfortable on the cracked wooden bench. So much for mastering the social niceties, he thinks.

She sits too close. Justin assumes she's placed herself there strategically, for better access to his food, and he's not wrong. The apple-cranberry fritters they serve here are amazing: Alex always claims she doesn't like them, or is on a diet, or isn't hungry, yet she always manages to eat most of his. Which is why he always orders two, even though they're big.

"Hey," says Alex, pointing to a nearby blank wall, "Remember the Leprechaun they used to have in a box over there? Whatever happened to that guy?"

Justin looks up obligingly, pretending to be completely taken in by her ruse. (More dancing. They have a way of doing things, after all.) He keeps his eyes on the wall just long enough for Alex to snag one of his fritters. "The Display workers went Union," he sighs, turning back to her, "and the 'Rock can't afford to keep them on premises anymore."

"Too bad… I wouldn't mind poking something with a stick right now."

Justin bites into the sweet-greasy crust of the surviving fritter, and a glob of still-warm filling drips down his chin. Mouth full, he rubs at it meticulously with a napkin.

"I guess you'll have to settle for me," he says after swallowing. "So what kind of favor do you need, seeing as how I'm so great and all?"

Munching on her own pastry (well, Justin's), his sister takes a few seconds to consider, which in itself is pretty rare. This oughta be good, he thinks. It must be a big favor, if she's not ready to convince him it was his idea all along, right out of the gate. Alex has incredibly nefarious ways of talking him into these things. Usually.

"Well," she says, carefully, "I guess my boss is throwing this party, or whatever."

He frowns, unable to see where she's going with this. "And?"

She turns her attention, and her gaze, to her cocoa, drowning a curl of pastry in its thick froth. When she bites into it, a dollop of foam sticks to her upper lip, and Justin tries not to think about brushing it away. Or what black-plum lipstick and chocolate foam would taste like together. Or… don't finish the thought, he tells himself. And doesn't.

Alex is still talking. Justin has sort of lost the thread of the conversation. He tries to pay attention again. "And so, it's sort of this fundraiser…"

"Alex, I know you're not asking me for money for this thing." Not like he has any. The job doesn't pay what you'd expect, not until he reaches tenure. It's one of the main reasons he works much, insomnia being the other one.

(And then there's the thing they don't talk about.)

"No, of course not!" she reassures him, slightly indignant, as if that's completely out of the realm of possibility. "It's just, well…" she fidgets, which is very unusual, and Justin feels himself getting nervous. She draws with the tip of one manicured nail in a spilled drop of hot chocolate. When she lifts her fingers to her mouth absentmindedly, Justin can't take it.

"Alex!" he yelps. "Do you have any idea how unsanitary…!" She rolls her eyes, but takes his napkin instead, cleaning her fingers.

Then she rests her hand on his forearm, looking up into his face. "And, well, I guess we lost our space at the Emporium or whatever?" She says it like a question, like she doesn't know what she's asking him for, and it takes a minute for Justin to catch up.

He chokes on his hot chocolate, and Alex has to pound him on the back. Hard, until he waves her away, worried that she'll give him some kind of spinal injury to go with his asphyxiation. "Alex!" he sputters, when he can talk, "I've been headmaster for less than a year! How can you possibly expect me to ask the school to donate space for that kind of thing!"

His sister's brows come together as she gives him a dirty look. "This kind of thing?"

Justin kicks himself, mentally. That may have been a poor choice of words. Still, though. "You know what I mean! Hanging out with street-people all the time is hardly…"

"Homeless! The word is _homeless_, Justin! God, for a smart guy you can be so STUPID! Do you know how you_ sound_ when you talk like that?"

She's nearly shouting, and the aging dude with the surfer-haircut behind the counter glances up from till. Alex shoots him a quick, don't worry about it glance, and he turns his attention away again. She lowers her voice, leaning in close enough to make Justin slightly uncomfortable. "You can be so intolerant," she hisses, "You don't even know what I do, Justin!"

"I know that you spend all your time at that so-called charity, doing something you never get paid for and can't even tell Mom and Dad about. Are you even working, Alex?" And really, Justin thinks, no one can blame him for wondering. After all, this is Alex. When has she ever worked a day in her life?

She pulls away, stung. "I should have known it was a mistake, coming to you. I'll just tell her that the head of Wiz-Tech is a stingy bastard and we'll have to cancel the benefit."

"Wait… Benefit?" Suddenly, he feels really stupid.

She glares at him over her cup. "What did you think I wanted you to do… host a sleepover?"

Actually, he had been thinking something along those lines… he knows that the dingy building where she "works" with the Wizard Worlds street peo- with the Wizard World's homeless sometimes doubles as a shelter when its denizens have nowhere else to go, and he'd assumed that some of her clients needed a new place to crash.

Rubbing his forehead, Justin asks, "Alright, well… what's the benefit for?"

She just looks at him for a minute, as if trying to decide if he's worth the effort. Finally she takes a deep breath, lets it out, and turns back with an air that suggests she's doing him an _enormous_ favor.

"Well like I was trying to tell you, if you'd been listening… It's a benefit. We're raising money for… a new center." It doesn't take a brilliant mind like Justin's to see that she's being evasive again, hiding things. But he feels chastised all the same.

"And you want to host it… at Wiz-Tech? Why?"

She sips her cocoa. "The Wand Emporium cancelled on us at the last minute… something about their lease restrictions… and I don't exactly have a lot of options."

"You don't exactly have a lot of experience hosting fundraisers, either," he points out.

Alex smiles winningly. "That's why I'm not going to host it."

"I'm not sure I follow you, Alex…" But, with a sinking heart, he realizes he does. Alex, for once, doesn't say a word. She just stares at him expectantly, licking the last bits of whipped cream from the corners of her mouth.

"_Alex_," Justin groans."_No..._"

* * *

A week later they're back in the Shamrock, working out the details of the fundraiser over a plate of mini-tostadas (because Alex protested that she was starving).

The fundraiser, which is basically a Halloween "Masquerade Ball" is being held on behalf of Helping Hands, the aforementioned shady organization that Alex does so much volunteer work for. For a not-very-important event it has a pretty extensive guest list, and there isn't room for anyone on the planning committee (Justin still can't believe it requires a committee) to bring more than one guest apiece. HH isn't a very high-profile organization (in Justin's opinion), so it still surprises him that there are so many important people on VIP list… or so much planning to do.

"You're inviting Mr. Cucuy," Justin asks, raising an eyebrow as he scans the last few names of the VIP list.

"Oh, sure," Alex remarks casually, cramming a pile of beans and salsa into her mouth and making Justin wince. "It just wouldn't be the same without Carlos - seriously, once you get past the whole 'monster' thing, the guy is a hoot!"

She would know Carlos Cucuy of the infamous Cucuy family, known for being both monsters and millionaires, a first name basis. He shouldn't be surprised.

"Oh, and here's the best part," Alex crows, giggling around mini-tostada crumbs (god, she's so ladylike). "He's bringing his mother, out of all people. Apparently she's providing the ride."

Without thinking, Justin reaches out with his napkin to dab the smear of sour cream from the edge of Alex's mouth. She freezes, giving him a curious (cautious) look.

Whoops. "So, uh, who are you planning to bring?" Justin murmurs quickly, trying to draw the attention away from whatever that was. "What's-his-face …Zane?"

Alex shakes her head, reabsorbing herself in sketching the layout for the tables, the stage area, the dance floor. "Broke up with him last week."

Justin's brow wrinkles in confusion. "I thought last week was Edward?"

"Edward was three whole weeks ago, Professor. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking." She moves the DJ from one end of the room to the other then proceeds to rearrange the tables at that end. Her eyes are too blank.

"Okay, I'll bite," Justin sighs. "Who's this week fresh catch?" He looks up from his food, waiting, frozen in mid-bite.

She's quiet. Not sketching. Not looking up. Then, "Actually…do you remember that cute guy in your Delinquents class, kinda big, and with the most powerful wand in the Wizard World?" Her gestures draw him in the air as Justin turns to her, incredulous.

"Please tell me you're not talking about _Felix_. Alex!"

"Hey, he's the one who came on to me," Alex protests. "I didn't think-"

"Are you kidding me?" Justin explodes, before he can reign himself in. She's so very, very good at pushing his buttons. Because of course he's mad that she's stooped to Felix's level. "Every guy within a hundred-mile radius, as long as he doesn't know firsthand how evil you are, _comes onto you_, Alex! _Look at you!_" He makes an exasperated, sweeping gesture that seems to take her in from head to toe.

Justin's little sister looks down at herself with a puzzled expression, as if this is news to her, as if the dark leather skirt, silk off-the-shoulder blouse, and those damned _boots_ happened by _accident_. As if she didn't dress like someone's dark fantasy every time she went hunting for her next heart to break, often as not showing up on Justin's doorstep on the same damn night, her eyes full of what Justin tells himself are crocodile tears. Everything about her saying, without her having to say a word: _Save me, Justin. Justin, help me. And, most of all: Justin, make it better?_ And he does, because he can't help himself. And she knows it. And around they go.

It's like she _wants_ to spite him.

Justin feels the vein in his temple begin to throb. Taking a steadying breath, he tries again. "Alex. Come on. Felix is fragile. He's practically a kid."

Her head snaps up from the party plans, eyes flashing, bright with what Justin tells himself is emotion, anger, and definitely not tears. "What are you trying to-"

"I'm just saying, maybe you should slow it down a little. Four guys in three weeks…"

"…Five," she mutters, "…if you count Claudia as a guy…" and he pretends not to hear. He's so not touching that.

"…is too many, even for you. This can't be good for you. And I know it's not good for them!"

"Justin…" Alex has her head bowed, her beautiful mess of dark curls concealing her face.

"Alex, I'm serious," Justin pleads, "I'm worried about you-"

"Just leave it, Justin." She's back to not making eye contact, but he knows by the steely sound of her voice that she's angry. She pushes crumbs around on her dish. Puts her thumbnail into her mouth; nibbles it. There's a little moment of quiet.

Justin reaches out to still her restless fingers of the hand roving on the tabletop, then gently takes the other one from her mouth, and holds her hands. He's surprised, like always, at how small her hands are in his. She shivers, finally looking up at him. Her eyelashes are wet.

Justin says, "I can't. Ever since Mason, it's like you've been-"

Alex snatches her hands back, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Leave it."

"-like you've been, I don't know, looking for something? Like you've been someone else. And I'm afraid you're going to get _hurt_, Alex. You're my little sister. I'm supposed to-"

He doesn't get to finish. She stands, pushing away so hard that the booth's table - which isn't attached but is plenty heavy - actually moves, the metal feet screeching against the wooden floorboards. Something like panic scuttles across her expression, so fleeting he might have imagined it.

"Alex! …Look, I'm sorry! It's just that I'm supposed to…"

"I gotta go," she says in a rush. Her voice is low. There's anger there, sure, but also, he thinks, sadness... and a resignation that's somehow worse than either.

(As if she'd expected this.)

(But so had he.)

"Wait-"

But she can't. Balancing on one foot, Alex pulls her wand from her left boot (are those heels still killing you, Alex?) and then in a flash of magic, she's gone.

_I'm supposed to take care of you._

Justin comes close to swearing in public (again). Eyes still smarting from a sudden attack of allergies, he gathers their trash in one big pile. Justin's food is mostly untouched, his cup half-full of mint cocoa that's still warm, but he throws the whole mess into the trash bin. He's not very hungry anymore.

(Sometimes, the dance goes wrong.)

(The precipice beneath his feet widens, and Justin feels the rush of air as their momentum sweeps him over the edge.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Masks: Chapter 2**

**A/N:**

**Watch out for typos. **

**I'll fix the madness... I promise. As soon as I can. When it goes away, this longwinded A/N will go away too. But I can't slow down to do it just yet. So until then... please try to read your way *around* the errors in this chapter if you can, and listen for the story between the lines, rather than in the grind of the mechanical problems. **

**Yours,**

**C. **

* * *

Alex is never going to speak to Justin again- that's what she tells herself. God, he's such a _jerk. _She doesn't know why she bothers with him. She's not even going to let him host the fundraiser. Nope, no way, forget it. She'll just have to figure something else out for the venue... Yeah, and something will come along. It always does. She will not, absolutely will _not_, ask Justin for help with this. Or, for that matter, with anything else. Ever again.

Two days later, she goes to Wiz-Tec to look for him. They need to talk about the catering, and the DJ, and the costume he's going to be wearing to the Masquerade.

(Some things never change.)

(It's just a dance they like to do.)

It's about eleven at night when Alex walks into Wiz-Tech, through the door this time. Sure, magic is more convenient. But even Alex knows that sometimes a subtle entrance is more effective than a dramatic one. Especially if she wants Justin to be relaxed... and she _wants_ him relaxed. At ease. Open to manipulation. She just has a _feeling_ that he's going to be a stubborn ass about the whole costume thing.

Besides, she's on friendly terms will all the doors anyway. Almost all the main doorways at Wiz-Tech are charmed, magical, and essentially alive. They've been alive for what must be hundreds of years, and Alex sometimes wonders what it would take to put them back to sleep again, or if it could even be done. They've gotten to know her pretty well, the doors, over the nine months of so since Justin became headmaster. Because to be honest, she comes here a lot. Usually in the middle of the night.

But she prefers it that way. This is, admittedly, partly because she knows Justin will be here; The thought of him here all alone, hemmed in by dark old walls and the phantom echo of spent magic hurts her in a way she wouldn't want to have to talk about. But it's not just that. There's also the fact that she prefers not to cross paths with any of the other faculty members, thanks. Alex doesn't like the way they look at her.

Oh, they have to be civil, of course... they answer to Justin now, and he wouldn't put up with his underlings being outright mean to Alex. But she feels their barely-concealed dislike prickling along her skin like legs of insects crawling over her. She knows what they think of her, can almost hear them : _Why it's Alex Russo, the infamous Wizard who nearly brought about the end of the Wizard World... twice. Alex Russo, Rulebreaker. Troublemaker. Undisciplined. Alex Russo, who only won her family's Wizard Competition because her older, obviously more talented brother has a heart of gold - and thank goodness he retained his powers, what a waste that would have been! _And, of course: _Alex Russo, whose most recent fame is a lack of discernment in love, who will date anything magical with a pulse and two legs - well, if you could call it dating! _

_(If you could call it love.) _

No thanks. She'll just deal with Justin, thanks all the same.

She goes hunting for Justin in his Headmaster's Office: he's not there. She checks the faculty lounge, a small tight room that always whiffs faintly of stale magic and old-people feet- but he's not in there, either. Huh.

Frustrated, Alex makes her way toward the school's cafeteria, although it's unlikely even Justin would be desperate enough to eat in that hellhole... She wonders, fleetingly, if he's gone to the 'Rock without her. There's an unexpected pang in the area of her ribcage that comes with that thought.

She thinks he's still here, though. She just has a feeling.

Behind the cafeteria counter, a lone Ogre stirs at an evil-looking pinkish entre, something pocked with gelatinous bits and what could very well be some kind of worms. Or maybe noodles. It's hard to tell the difference, which is one of the reasons Alex isn't sorry. As she approaches, the attendant glances up, first with boredom and then with alarm. His voice is thick and deep. "Heyy, wait, I know you! You're Alex Russo, you can't come in here! You're not-"

"Okay, it's alright, take it easy," Alex soothes, holding up both palms to show she's not armed, or anything. "I'm just looking for my brother. Justin Russo?"

"Professor Russo's probably in the lab," offers a small voice, behind her. Alex turns to look for its owner.

"..._Melvis_?"

"Yeah," smiles the boy, face half-hidden by a stack of books and papers at a corner table. Melvis, small but certainly not as small as she remembers him, is one of Justin's former delinquents. Alex is honestly a bit surprised to find him here at Wiz-Tech, where, well, where the _good_ students usually belong. Of course, he did have a good teacher. Justin's one of the best.

(Not that she'd admit it to his face, of course.)

After she tells him how good it is to see him (really, it is), finds out when he'll be graduating (next year...? Wow. Guess time really _does _fly), Alex gets directions that will her to the chemistry lab. She resists the urge to ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks, and prowls off to find her brother.

They were good directions. She finds him right where Melvis said he would be, rattling around in in a big old room toward the back of this wing of the building.

The room that seems to be evenly divided between laboratory and classroom. The part of the room that's a lab is all science-y, papered the tall shelves lined with jars of nightmare things in drifting in formaldehyde, the walls papered with maps and posters of elemental spells, counters crammed with complicated-looking gizmos that Justin probably knows the names of. There are several workstation islands with the kind of black rubbery tops that won't be injured by chemical spills or dissecting knives. There are drains in the floor. The classroom side, with the regular desks, is less interesting, except for the fact that it's draped with scaffolding and there are painters' ladders standing here and there.

Justin's back is to her, as he stands at one of the workstations measuring something from a curved glass jug into a squat black cauldron. He can't see her from there, so he startles her more than a little by announcing casually: "The answer is still no, Alex."

"Wha- hey! How did you know it was me! She stamps her foot, and the heel of her shoe clicks against the floor as neatly if she were wearing tap shoes.

"Because," Justin says, turning with the hint of a smirk on face, "Of that. None of my chemistry students wear _heels_, Alex.:

"Or spend all night at school like dorks," she mutters, pretending to examine her nails. She waves a hand at the scaffolding. "What's with the under-construction stuff?"

"That side is getting a new paint job and some general touching up - they do it once every hundred years or so." He turns back to his task, squinting at the deep blue liquid he's slowly emptying into the cauldron. "And it's still no. I might have let you talk me into asking the school board to host your Benefit here- and I must be crazy for doing it, by the way- but I am not... repeat not... wearing... a _halloween costume,_" he growls, stoppering the curved glass bottle and putting it away on a shelf. "It's... undignified."

Alex says nothing, not yet. She just sidles up to him gingerly, to get a better look at what he's doing. The cauldron, though smallish, looks remarkably heavy. The dull metal that it's made of, so black it's nearly blue, refuses to reflect the light; it almost seems, almost, to suck it in. _Trippy,_ she thinks, peering in. A thick indigo liquid swirls in the cauldron's belly, glistening.

"It's magic-resistant," Justin says softly, following her gaze. "The cauldron, not the spell."

Alex frowns. "That's a spell?"

"Sure is. Or rather, it's a magical element. Magical elements both contain and comprise spells," he explains, sinking comfortably into his know-it-all mode. "It's important for students to learn how they work before they encounter them in the real world."

Alex looks at him, blankly. "Why?"

"Because with magic, anything can happen." He sighs at Alex. "Look, if you're going to stand around making fun of me, you could at least make yourself useful. Get me that yellow vial over there, will you? The little one."

Not normally one to take orders, she figures she'd better humor him if she's going to get him into a costume in time for the party. Following his gaze, Alex extracts a small glass vial full of a sparkling, sunshine-colored liquid from a nearby cabinet, lifting it toward the light to see it better. "Hey, this one's pretty. Is it a spell too?" She tips it one way and then the other, watching it sparkle in the light. When Justin sees what she's doing, he stops messing with the cauldron and grabs her wrist, steadying it.

"Alex!" he yelps. "Be careful!"

She frowns. "What's the deal?"

"These elements… look, they can never be combined directly… that's what the diluting solution is for, it weakens the base compound, and then..." But Alex starts to get that blank she gets whenever Justin tries to teach her anything important.

Sensing she's only a syllable or two from away checking out completely, he tries again. "Look, these two things? The blue stuff in the cauldron and the yellow spellmix catalyst in your hand? They're too closely related in the table of magical elements… uh, how can I say this in layman's terms… they're too strong together, and at the same time too unstable. Together. Separately, they're fine. But if they were combined without any kind of filter or dilution to mask the more intense qualities of both, the result would be unpredictable."

Alex turns the vial of catalyst, the thing that looks like captured light, from one side to the other, watching it sparkle. She's listening, but, not that much. "_Volatile_, Alex," her brother insists, peering into her face to make sure she's listening. "Catastrophic, maybe."

Alex rolls her eyes. God, he can be so dramatic. "Okay, okay, I get it. Thanks for the small words. Can we just get _on_ with it, Bill Nye? I have other things to do after we get this whole convincing-you-to-wear-a-costume issue behind us, y'know."

Justin grimaces knowingly. Other things to do. A date. In the middle of the night. Naturally. "Anyone I know?"

Alex's face stays blank; she doesn't want to get into it. "Doubt , should I just pour this thingy here into-" with extravagant gestures, she holds the beaker over the black mouth of the cauldron, as if she's going to tip it in.

_"ALEX!" _Justin screeches, seizing her wrist. "I need to strain that through the filter first!"

She giggles. "Just kidding… sorry. Come on. Let's do this thing."

* * *

With Alex's "help", the measuring and re-measuring (safety first!) takes longer than it should (way, way longer), giving Alex a chance to give her brother a going-over several more times while they work on it.

"It's a masquerade, Justin... a costume ball, ever hear of it? Everyone will wearing a costume!"

"No."

"Look, I'll go shopping with you. I get off work early tomorrow and-"

"No, Alex!"

His little sister bites her lower lip (no lipstick this time unless she's bitten it off), a small frown creasing the place between her eyes, and Justin's heart clenches.

They're in the final steps of preparing a chemical-magical mixture for the next day's lesson, now. Justin is about to transfer the contents of the cauldron into a large vat, passing it through some sort of chemical filter on the way. The fat little cauldron is just as heavy as it looks, and Justin is more than a little gratified to watch Alex pretend not to be impressed when he lifts it with ease. At least she's been pressed into service while they argue, currently holding the spellmix catalyst until he needs it.

"Please, Justin?"

Be strong, he counsels himself, but when she tips her head just enough so that she can peer up at him through her thick lashes, Justin thinks uneasily of the big dark eyes he's seen on certain wild creatures in the forest that stretches away from the boundaries of the school. Justin thinks of being watched through leaves, by eyes as motionless as the shadows between the trees.

Justin looks away. "No. I've already told you. There's no way I'm wearing a costume."

She's silent for a beat or two, then he feels her light touch on his arm. Sliding down along the sleeve of his lab coat. Burning into the gap between his sleeve and the thick rubber glove that protects his hand. He feels himself tense, feels himself getting agitated. Why won't she take 'no' for an answer? She's so… difficult!

"Please?"

"Alex, I already told you, it's-."

He's about to say the word 'impossible', or something else that means the same thing, when his sister's fingers slip under his glove, into his palm. Her fingers brush his immediately-sweaty skin (he has big glands), stroking, like she wants to hold hands with him. Professor Russo is holding the volatile chemical so he can't, not that he would anyway, but the sudden touch startles him so badly that he flinches (they don't hold hands, they don't do that!) and jerks away, pulling hard to the right, taking the cauldron with him.

...Right into Alex, who sidesteps with her usual scary-fast feline grace.

The glass beaker she's holding isn't so lucky.

* * *

…Neither of them, though, is quick enough to prevent what happens next. As the beaker in Alex's grip meets the thick metal whatever magic-resistant (or magic containing) element the cauldron is made of, there's a high, sweet ringing that seems to hang above their heads, hovering…

…and it shatters.

* * *

The viscous indigo stuff seems out, drooling into the dark mouth of the cauldron as if it had had that destination in mind all along. It stains Alex's fingers on the way: days from now, she'll still be scrubbing it off. For now, though, she has more important things to worry about. When the bright yellow catalyst meets the ink-blue spell dancing in the cauldron, there's a dazzling, blinding flash- She closes her eyes...

When she opens them, the whole world is on fire. The room is engulfed by flame. Not an ordinary orange-and-yellow but a dazzling, flickering dance of hungry tongues of emerald green fire that licks up the walls and rolls across the floor like waves on some haunted sea, but fast, so fast that there's no time to run. She's stuck, staring, as the flames reach her and roll up her legs. Her vision clouds, transformed green, and Alex shrieks...

There's no pain.

She stops, catching her breath, gasping, trying to understand over the pounding of her heart, the fog in her eyes.

Justin?

Is she shouting or just calling to him from the inside of her head? Sound, like time, has gone funny. Warped. But it makes no difference either way, because as she says his name, he's there.

Alex!

He's there, but she can't reach him. He seems to be a long ways away, although she can see him right next to her. She's on fire, but she's not in pain. The flames feel... cold. No, not even that. They feel like nothing at all, like air rushing of her skin... and there's a rushing in her ears, she can't hear herself... the world looks as though she's seeing it through green glass. Everything feels...

(volatile)

...strange. But she's not burning. She's not burning. Her clothes are fine. Her skin does not sear. Even Justin looks unharmed, green but okay otherwise. As the green flames lick up his shins and silhouette his body in the weird light, he looks different, she thinks. Unreal. Like a storybook character, almost, shining... like a hero from a myth. He looks beautiful, she realizes, with a start...

...with a feeling like something sliding into place inside her head. Or maybe her ribcage. Alex pushes the thought away, hard.

Alex! Justin is shouting, or whispering, or thinking. Alex, look!

She turns just in time to take in the arrested wonder of his gaze, his gaze reflecting her own, to see without wanting to see, that his eyes are as full of her as hers are of him. (Her mind rebels, backing away.) And then she sees what he's pointing at... something is burning after all.

High above them, between the painter's ladders (both of which are untouched), the painters' work-in-progress is slowly and surely being peeled away. Layer by layer, the hungry green flames eat the bright new colors, then they swallow the drywall, gobbling it as if they'd been starving, been waiting for this chance... and instead of the blackened (or greened?) stonework Alex might expect, or even the burned-black of ancient support beams... something emerges from beneath the cleansing flame.

There's something written on the wall. She squints through the blaze, through her confusion and slow-burning fear.

There is no light, what what lives in the Sunne

There is no Sunne, but which is twice begott;

And out of One a Twofold worke doth make

As doth admitt Division none at all

...What the hell?

She can't read make any sense of that.. she doesn't understand. She looks to Justin for help... through the emerald air he's staring it in a fixed way that means he can.

He doesn't answer her unspoken question, though, only begins to shout (or think, or whisper) a spell of his own, into the fire. Alex wants to tell him he doesn't have to, wants to tell him what she can already see, that having done their work the flames are beginning to recede... but she doesn't get the chance. (Not that she could look away anyway, in any case... with the flames framing the words on the wall, the effect is mesmerizing.)

She doesn't get the chance because as he shouts into the storm he reaches for her hand... through what has come to feel like an incredible distance... and as they touch, the flames roll back. Their fierce green tongues shrink, growing shorter and flickering away... and then vanish.

They link hands and the flames go out. Neat, and easy, like flicking a switch. Or snuffing a candle flame.

Brother and sister stand untouched in the undamaged room, holding hands. Neither one can quite breathe, quite move. Nothing in the room has been touched... except the strange writing, high on the wall, between the painters' ladders. Alex is the first to speak, after a long moment in which no one says anything.

"What," she says, "was that?"


	3. Chapter 3

It's the last class of the day. Justin's students shift anxiously in their seats, glancing furtively at the clock on the wall as if it will make time move faster. A few of them squint at the cryptic writing on the back wall from time to time, when they think their teacher's not looking. Justin walks the floor, caught up in his lecture.

"Now Halloween, as you all know, is an extremely important time in the Wizard World. The mortal world generally knows it as a day of innocent revelry, however those of us that dwell in the magical realm are, of course, aware of the very real danger that exists when the veil between our two worlds is thinnest, as it is on the night of Hallow's Eve. Magically speaking, it's a time when almost anything can and will happen. Now, in contrast to mortal folklore, the use of Masks was originally implemented in an effort to protect-."

"-innocent trick-or-treaters from your ugly mug, is gonna be my guess," a familiar voice remarks from the doorway.

Alex has propped herself up in the doorframe. Fresh from work (or "work", in Justin's opinion), she's resplendent in skinny jeans and Babydoll T-shirt, with a faded "Helping Hands" logo on the front, smirking and shining at him. Idly, Justin wonders if she has to looks that good naturally, or if she has to- Justin, stop it! he reproaches himself, and does.

Gathering himself for a moment before he replies to her snub, Justin rubs his tired eyes. It's not not right... Justin shouldn't be thinking about his sister that way. And it's been worse, lately. He's just be so exhausted. And he's seen so little of Juliet, and it's Alex, and... Alex.

And yesterday's insanity in the lab seems like a long time ago, in the same way that time and space got all stretched and improbable during the long moments in which the lab burned. Burned? Well, while it did whatever-it-was. Justin's been poring over his magical chem books ever since, and while he was able to find a reference to the original manuscript that the inscription obviously came from, he can't come up with a single satisfying explanation as to what happened. Or why.

And naturally, he and Alex haven't talked about it. They're good at not talking about things - one thing they have in common. Alex breaks right his thoughts, and Justin's so caught up in them that he actually jumps a little.

"So what's it gonna be, Teach? Tricks or treats?" His class titters, amused, and Justin feels his thin hold over their adolescent attention span slipping away.

He rolls his eyes in response. "Alex, I don't have time for this. What do you want?"

She brightens, which he would have said was impossible about two seconds ago, extending a hand and nodding toward the exit. "We need to go shopping for our costumes. Well, for yours, actually." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, making Justin uncomfortable (well, more uncomfortable), obviously performing for the benefit of his class, as she adds, "I've already got mine."

She so childish!

The class's murmuring gives way to outright giggles, and Justin feels the last of his hold over them fall away. Mentally he curses. Unable to help himself, he growls, "I told you, I'm not wearing any costume! Now would you kindly quit interrupting my class. I'm sure you have other things to do, " he adds with heavy emphasis, the closest thing to snark he can manage in his flustered state.

"Justin, it's a Costume. Ball. " She pronounces each word with exaggerated stress on the syllables, as if speaking to one of the slower students in Justin's old Delinquent class. "And it just so happens that I cleared my calendar for this, so can we please get a move on already!"

"I realize that it's a Masquerade, Alex. And I'm flattered that you sacrificed your important social schedule to disrupt my teaching, really. But I'm absolutely not going to be going in some silly get-up, so unless you have something to contribute to the lesson, I'd suggest you run along before someone mistakes you for one of the Delinquents and sends you to... to detention!" He growls, advancing on her.

It's not a very good burn. Actually, it's remarkably weak... Alex always throws him off his game. But his bored students seize on it, several of them murmuring "oooh..." as if he'd threatened her with Gryphon-duty. One of the more rambunctious kids, toward the back, follows up with a wolf-whistle, and Justin feels his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment. He puts a little more space between them, stepping backward in what looks way too much like a retreat.

Alex stomps her foot, a gesture that's both adorable and infuriating, and Justin wonders, not for the first time, how she manages to pull off that particular combination. Then she advances, reaching for his arm as he yanks it away. "Come on, Justin! Class is almost over! We have to get going before all the Halloween places are closed!"

Justin groans. His class rustles their assignment books, both watching the show and hoping to be cut loose.

"Oh, what? Did you have plans?" Alex's voice is syrupy sweet, false. She barks a laugh, not even having to verbalize what she thinks about that. The words "Justin" and "plans' have never managed to coexist happily in the same sentence.

He sighs, feeling the familiar slump in his shoulders, the sinking in his stomach. "Class dismissed."

* * *

Alex turns out to be right about one thing: by the time she badgers Justin out the door out the door, and after he's got everything put away for the night, almost everything Halloween-related is closed. They end up in the mortal world, of all places, in a mall near the Megaplex.

"HALLOWEENLAND" is one of those seasonal gigs that shows up once a year, essentially one enormous basement divided into aisles every kind of spooky paraphanelia imaginable, from the cheap to the outrageous. It only shows up once a year, blowing into town right around the time the leaves start to fall, and disappearing immediately after the big night. A month from now, the space will be occupied by a kitschy holiday-themed store called "Christmas Towne", then stand empty until October rolls around again. And store isn't run by the same company or anything; the proprietor seems to vanish along with the styrofoam pumpkins and rubber masks, as if he's been put away somewhere for the year.

And here's something else: They've been visiting HALLOWEENLAND since they were kids, Justin has never noticed any setting-up, never seen the store in a disarray of boxes and half-finished displays, no matter when he's been here. It just blows into town overnight, and on the first of November vanishes appears… well, magic.

The place is creepy.

Justin doesn't even want to go in. Alex insists.

From the moment they cross the threshold, Halloween calls to them in a thousand voices. Animated ghouls lurch and shudder like stop-motion photography, talons extended and teeth bared. The mad laughter of crones and the jolly wishes of "Happy Halloween!" collide with a chorus of wolves' howls, canned but nonetheless effective.

It's a riot of fall color and ghastly pageantry. The whole lurid scene blazes, pools out in front of them as far as they can see (and they can see pretty far, because the room is huge): styrofoam pumpkins and paper ghosts, gleaming candy-colored platters, and cheesy plastic bowls with skeletal hands that grab you when you reach for a treat. Sacks of cotton cobwebs and racks of rubber skeletons. There are whole aisles of fake blood and plastic teeth and cheap pancake makeup, props and costumes; everything you could ever ask for in a haunted house. As if the whole cacophony were part of a stage-set, the show is dramatically spotlighted here and there by the artificial "fire" of torches and cauldrons made of fluttering paper flame, lit by nothing more serious than one tiny batter-powered candle apiece.

Justin's eyes begin to whirl in their sockets... and he feels a bit sick. He thinks he might need to sit down. But he's quickly distracted by his sister's sudden lack movement. She's frozen in place, staring towards the back of the store with the face like that of a child's on Christmas morning.

"Oh… wow." Alex's voice sounds small, breathless. Justin glances at her, suspicious.

"Um, you okay?" He pulls gently on her arm, tugging harder when she doesn't respond.

"Huh? Ow, Justin! Let go!" She yanks her arm out of his grasp, pulling free from where he'd been shaking her. She points. "Look!"

Look at what? But he follows her pointing finger. Is that a…a bouncy house?

That's exactly what it is. A bounce-house for children, but done-up in theme just for the occasion… A bounce-house of glistening inflatable gingerbread, iced in glittering sugar-candy that's probably been spray-painted on, the quaking sides decorated with the likenesses of a grinning hag, a cringing brother and sister walking hand-in-hand... and candy, candy, everywhere you look. The fake cut-out "windows" are edged in chocolate slabs, the "roof" tiled in realistic candy-corn. The path leading up to the house is a high-traffic roll of carpeting decorated to look like stepping-stones edged in peppermint sticks, and it's lined with a tiny parade of inflatable children, obviously lured by its delights, alternating with pretty paper "torches" fluttering in their own breeze.

It takes Justin a minute but he gets it, finally. It's Hansel and Gretel, the classic (mortal) fairy tale, but in the Halloween-edition. He remembers their mom reading him this story before, though it has been a long time. (He remembers trying to read it to Alex, too, and the subsequent loss of several pages. She's never been much of a reader.) Justin notices that there's even a miniature mock-up of the cage where the witch kept Hansel while she fattened him up for the fire: this one is less embellished, just a cardboard shack made to look like aging wood and iron bars, with an oversized padlock on the outside, and bony skeleton's hand protruding from between the inflatable bars. Guess Hansel's sister didn't manage to free him in time, in this version. Justin shivers.

"It's perfect," Alex breathes, and Justin has to shake her again.

"What are you talking about, Alex?"

"For the play!"

"Alex…what…what play? You never mentioned anything about a play."

She comes out of her reverie, looking back at him as if he ought to know what she's thinking. "For the play. For the performers?" She heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Look, I thought I told you. It's for work, and it's for the Benefit. We're staging a short play as part of the Masquerade, just a little light entertainment to help people to understand what we-" she breaks off in midsentence, but keeps talking as if it never happened, " ...and I'm in charge of costuming and props. I wasn't sure how I was going to do the house, I've kind of been killing myself over it, but this…! This. Is just. ...Perfect." She sighs. It's the happiest Justin's seen her in a long time.

Justin doesn't know how to respond. It's not like Alex to get so excited about something as mundane as a children's playhouse, and she's doesn't exactly have a great track record with theatrical productions (cough, Peter Pan, cough) and he doesn't really know where to start. Fortunately, he doesn't have to: they've attracted the attention of the store's proprietor, who apparently objects to them standing around gawking at the merchandise without acting like they want to buy anything.

The proprietor is a small man, mousy, with wire-frame glasses and a beady ratlike expression. In fact, as children they'd called him "rat-man", as sort of a joke. All the kids had. He hasn't changed much, the rat-man... It's been a few years, and Justin would expect him to look, well, older. He guesses that maybe everyone looked old when he was a kid. Or maybe the guy just ages well, or... well, who knows. Anyway, it's not really Justin's problem.

Rat-man had been reading a newspaper behind the counter, seated on a tall stool, when Justin and Alex had entered the building. Now, as he scuttles over towards the two imbeciles gawking at the bouncy house, he squeaks,"What is it that you're looking for?" in his high-pitched old man's voice.

Both siblings jump. And making them turn, guiltily, like children caught stealing candy.

"Um, we're here to look at masks?" Alex manages, looking almost composed. As usual, she's the first to speak. Justin's lips are still frozen, his thoughts chugging furiously, sort of thrown by the whole gingerbread house thing.

The man scoffs, a weird rodent-like sound almost like a laugh, peering at them over his rimless bifocals. "So it's masks, is it? Don't want to be recognized, do ya? Well, that's common enough, isn't it!" He spits the last words at them with a sort of venom that makes Alex take a step back, into her brother. Then the man is streaking down a shadowy aisle with a speed that seems surprising, given his age and size.

"Come on, come on!" the man calls over his shoulder, "The disguises is down this way!" He pauses to wheeze, the sound catching in his throat and echoing across the store. "They won't know ya from yer own brother!" That gives Justin a nasty jump, but whatever. He's not likely to know that Alex is his sister, and far less likely to know the inappropriate slant of some of Justin's thoughts lately. This guy's a mortal, obviously. Probably. Seizing Justin's wrist, Alex rushes to see what treasures the store has to offer, dragging a reluctant Justin along behind her.

* * *

A half-hour and an armful of masks later, Alex pushes Justin into one of the tiny dressing rooms - she says it's so he can see what he's trying on, but he suspects she's more concerned with preventing his escape - and yanks the purple, moth-eaten curtains shut, enclosing them together already-tiny space together. Justin feels a little claustrophobic, but he really just wants to get this over with.

Over the next... hour?... or so, because he's lost track of time in here, his sister orders him into one mask after another. Under the pressure of her most recent assault, they'd finally agreed that he'd wear a mask... not a stupid costume, just a simple, not-completely-undignified mask... to the party. It was under Alex's assertion that he'd be even more likely to stand out without one (well, and her reminder that almost all of the heroes of his childhood were masked in one way or another) that he'd finally folded. And to get her to stop talking. But Justin is fast losing patience with this. Irritated, Justin yanks the most recent abomination off his face (he's not the Freddy Krueger type, thanks) and turns to her, sliding the curtain back to get a little air, to put some distance between him and her haranguing.

"Why the big deal about Halloween anyway, Alex? Wouldn't Christmas be a better time for your little Charity drive or whatever? It's not as if you celebrate any of the other holidays."

She tries to balance a pirate's hat on his head, and Justin brushes it away. "I celebrate my birthday," she points out impishly.

"You're not a national holiday."

"Not according to you, maybe…"

"Not according to anyone. Come on, answer the question."

His sister scowls. "Well, for one thing, Halloween is bigger than Christmas in the Wizard World. As you know, Professor."

Okay, fine, he'll give her that one. But there's more to it that holiday spirit, he can tell. "Fine. But you're always like this around October, Alex, and for someone who can barely be bothered to remember the days of the week most of the time, it's just... well, it's just weird. You're not the holiday type! So, give."

She sighs. "Justin, don't you get it? Halloween is special, okay. Think about it. It's all about the rest of the time, you have to be yourself… well, unless you're a Wizard, but even for us there are limits… but mostly you have to be who the person... or Wizard, whatever... you always are, and you already have a pretty good idea who that is..." She holds a feathered and pumpkin-orange mask up to his eyes, grimaces, and tosses it on the growing stack of rejects. "... and so does everyone else, which is even worse. Everyone's already decided who you can, or can't be." She balances a top-hat on him, looks a it critically, and puts it into the "maybe" pile without asking Justin what he thinks. "But one night a year… just one… you can be anybody. Anybody at all, Justin!" She turns away from him to examine a row of glittering masquerade masks, plucking a shimmery purple one from the front and holding it to her face. "Man, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one!" she scolds him from behind the molded plastic. "Hey, how about this?"

She holds out her other hand, which is somehow holding its own mask, though he could have sworn it wasn't just a second before. (Alex, Justin sometimes reflects, is a little more like a magician than a wizard.) She's offering him is a mess of red and black sequins, tapering down to a long bird's nose, somehow both ridiculous and fierce. Justin makes a face. "Not that one."

Alex groans over-dramatically.

* * *

At least two hours in, and they're still at it. Justin has rejected both the reject pile AND the maybe pile, prompting a series of snide remarks from the little man behind the counter, who undoubtedly has to reshelve them. Alex, undeterred as she always is once she sets her heart on something, has stockpiled another basket of disguises and trapped him in the teeny dressing room again. Justin's kind of getting used to it.

"What have you got against costumes anyway?" she asks, poking through the stack for the next reject. "How come you never dress up on Halloween?"

"I just don't," he says, trying to sneak a peek at the clock through the crumpled velvet curtains, while Alex successfully blocks him. "I'm not good at lying. That's always been your territory. That's what a mask does. It makes you look like something you're not."

"Or hides something you are," Alex points out, holding a zombie mask up to his visage.

"Same difference," Justin grumbles, pushing it away.

She blows her breath out, puffing her bangs out of her face. "Honestly, it's not. No one should know that better than you."

Oh, he's so not touching that.

He frowns at her suddenly as a thought comes to mind. "Hey, why are you here torturing me? What about your costume?"

Alex grins up at him."You'll see it at the party," she smirks. This is all about you, big brother." She hands him a rubbery "Batman" mask.

Okay, it's been at least three hours and Justin has officially had it.

"Justin, if you take much longer they're going to think we died in here!"

(Though, to be fair, it does smell as if something has died in these dressing rooms. What it is, Justin does not want to know.)

They've been in and out of that damned dressing room for what feels like- and may be- hours, and Justin has yet to make a firm decision either way.

There's a brief, muted bing-bong sound - it's the door, letting the owner (and Justin and Alex) know that someone was leaving. There's only been one other person in the shop the entire time they've been in it... and it was some goth girl that Alex insisted was giving Justin the eye. Which she wasn't. Justin can't help but notice that Alex doesn't seem sorry to see her go... er, to hear her go, a hint of a smile ghosting across her face at the sound. Then, something happens.

Then there's a brief click of machinery… and the lights go out. Not just in the dressing room or anything... everywhere. Too late, Justin realizes that the guy behind the counter must have thought the exiting customer was THEM, leaving. The EXIT lights appear out of the darkness, glowing eerie green. While the siblings stare at each other, stupidly, there's a sliding, grinding sound... It's the door! Justin realizes with a rising panic. The metal door that shuts off the entrance from the rest of the world! Er, from the mall. Whatever.

"WAIT!" He shouts, as Alex glares at him and blocks her eyes. "We're in here... don't lock up yet! We're STILL IN HERE!"

There's no reply. The rat-man is gone. Outside the dressing-room, the growls and chants of the machinery left on to shine in the display window (in a basement? Malls make no sense) takes on an ominous quality.

They're locked up in here. His gut tightens, nervousness pooling in him like an acid. Why, though? It's just Alex, after all…

(Oh. Right.)

(It's Alex.)

Justin's reaches for his wand. The wand flares… then sizzles, electricity snapping like a dying light bulb. Alex gives him a knowing look. Under other circumstances, she'd undoubtedly find his his deflated expression almost, no scratch that, it'd be completely hilarious.

"I can't do it," he admits, staring dumbly down at his wand. "There's too much…"

"…plastic?" she finishes for him, the two speaking almost in tandem.

"The natural enemy of magic," Justin sighs, looking at the walls that surround them, visible by the faint green glow of the EXIT sign at the far end of the dressing-room. "Plastic walls, plastic masks, rows and rows of plastic god-knows-what... our wands are almost powerless around this stuff."

Right. They look at each other.

"Can't you try again?" she urges, making her best puppy dog face. It's pointless, of course. Her lower lip protrudes. Oh… well. Maybe just one more try. (Justin wonders if she has a date lined up after this, and pushes away the unwelcome thought like a buzzing insect.)

"Here," Alex says, slipping her wand out of her boot, "We'll both do it. Double our chances, right?"

Justin shrugs. Moving together, the twist the wands counterclockwise in the air...

This time, the magic careens wildly off the walls, and both siblings duck, Alex covering her head as if it's a bomb that's loose and not just an errant streak of magic. The walls make a soft bonking sound as the missile smacks into them, arcs away, then comes back for another blow…. until the sparkling glow bounces in a diagonal that lands it on the only available surface that's not plastic: the mirror. Which, of course, doesn't reflect magic. It shatters. Their image scatters across the floor between them in shards.

"Oops," says Alex, not looking sorry enough. Justin gives her a dirty look.

The mirror, lying in pieces between them, reflects her smirk and his answering scowl in a million different ways. All the separate, broken bits of themselves stare back at them with dismay.

"Great idea, Alex," her brother growls.


	4. Chapter 4

Alex has absolutely no idea what to do now... so she does what she usually does. Which is to sit here, and wait for Justin to come up with a plan. For a little while, they do that: they sit on the dressing-room floor together, backs against the wall. At least the lights aren't all out... not quite. Aside from the green-glowing EXIT signs, the nighttime settings must have kicked on, because the Russos are bathed in blacklight seeping past the curtain.

Out of nowhere, Alex looks at him and laughs. It makes Justin glower at her, not that she cares. "Woah, Dude... you''re glowing!"

"What?" Her brother looks at himself. No, I'm..." the word 'not' dies in his mouth. Because he totally is, undershirt picking up the phosphorescent glow and lighting him up like a candle. "I guess I am." He looks back up at his sister, and she grins.

"At least you won't get lost!"

"Ha-ha, Alex. I'm glad our situation is so amusing to you."

She doesn't say anything to that, folding her arms to sulk. The pieces of mirror glisten between them, shining blackly, like water at night. Justin bounces to his feet. He holds out his hand. "Come on."

He's got a plan, huh? Took him long enough. But she protests, because they have to do things by the rules, after all. "Where are we going, genius? We're kindof trapped in here, in case you forgot?" Alex regards him with suspicion, but she takes his hand anyway, lets herself be hauled up, protesting the entire time.

(It's just a dance.)

(And they're only dancing.)

Glowing or not, she shouldn't be able to see his eyes sparkle with excitement in the faint light... but she's pretty sure she can. "Just come on... I have an idea!"

Justin pulls her by the hand, taking special care that she not step on any of the broken glass... (as if she would?)... like she's freaking five years old. He practically drags her out past the curtain, almost exactly the way that she brought him in.

Justin keeps hold of her hand small hand, folding it into his big warm ones, as if for safekeeping. Alex doesn't make him give it back, though. After all, it's not like there's anyone watching.

(And they're braver, in the dark.)

Outside the dressing warren of dressing rooms, the store is alive. The machinery of Halloween cackles and moans as a half-dozen large displays competing in the empty store, while a banked row of blacklights in the far wall drapes them in its lonely deep-purple glow. It's not until they've passed the skeletons, braved the gargoyles, and stared down a half-dozen lurching ghouls that Alex understand where they're headed. The path of fluttering paper torches looms.

"Justin, no," Alex groans. But he doesn't even slow down.

* * *

To be honest, Alex has to admit that it isn't the worst idea. After all, the gingerbread house is the closest thing to a room, a bed, or even tent that either of them is likely to come up with. Plus, it's just cool, and she's always kind of wanted to live in a fairy tale. (She was also planning to take the role of Evil Queen in Charge rather than that of Little Child Lost in the Woods, but hey. You take what you can get.)

While Justin paces, frets about what they'll do when they're caught in the morning (apparently he used up all his courage to think up the campout idea... and to get her over the super-dangerous broken mirror, let's not forget that), Alex excuses herself, over Justin's protest, to gather supplies.

He claims it's shoplifting. Or, at the very least, "Inappropriate use of the inventory, Alex!" she's is pretty sure he just doesn't want to be left in the dark.

She doesn't disappear down the dark aisles for long, but when she returns, arms laden down with Halloween banners, a flaring electric "cauldron" that throws more light the row of tiny torches, and a bag stuffed with candy, he's starting to look more than a little creeped out... he's such a big baby. She's just sorry she didn't sneak up on him, so she could jump out and yell. Justin's really funny when he screams like a girl.

It IS a little spooky in here. Grinning, she drops the bags and picks up glowing cauldron, holding it beneath her chin to light her face with its dancing shadows. "Toil and trouble…" She whispers, making her eyes big and glassy.

Justin snatches it away from her with a look of terror that's incredibly gratifying, and a high-pitched "Stop that! You- you'll break it!" His reaction makes Alex chuckle deep in her throat, low and dirty. He's such a puss, her big brother. He's so easy. She loves him so much.

(Not that she'd want to admit it out loud, or anything.)

After a moment, he says, "Shakespeare?" And Alex shrugs.

"It's amazing what I retain, right?"

As Alex unpacks a banner, Justin reverts to his normal old-lady self, fussing "We're going to have to pay for all that, you know," at her.

His sister shrugs, fishing out a tootsie roll to unwrap and pop between her lips. She unpackages two huge halloween banners, the kind that might be hung from the rafters at a large house party. "Yeah, or make a run for it." At his shocked look, she tells him, "Jesus, I'm kidding," around the candy rapidly staining her lips purple.

She pushes past him to duck into the tiny "door" of the bounce house, then tucks the banner, around the edges of the inflatable "floor" like a sheet on a bed. A big, unstable, bounce-bed. The banner is a big, gaudy orange-and-black affair made to look like an enormous pumpkin with glowing eyes and mouth. "You have no sense of fun, you know that?"

"Fun! Is that what you call it! Breaking into... into inventory, getting locked in an empty store overnight... disrupting my class... making things explode?" It's hard to tell in the dark, but she thinks he's getting a little red in the face.

Aaaand there it is. The thing they weren't going to talk about. So they're doing this, then. Alex puts the second banner down, smoothes it out, and comes back to the fire. Er, the cauldron.

Carefully, she sits down by Justin, criss-cross applesauce facing him, with the cauldron's flames dancing between them. It throws flickering shadows on their faces like a campfire. Justin stares into it as if he wishes it were one. Or as if he wishes it were one, and he could toss his meddlesome little sister into it, like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.

He's quiet for a long time. Alex can't take much quiet, and she whispers, "Justin?" He doesn't respond, and she touches his arm. "Justin."

He looks up at her, eyes big and dark in the haunted air. "Justin, I'm sorry," she says quietly, whispering the words as if that will make them hurt her less. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I had to ask you for help with the Masquerade." She waits, but he doesn't forgive her yet, knitting his brows as he studies her face. "I'm sorry that I interrupted your lecture even though they weren't really listening to you anyway," she goes on. "I'm sorry I won the wizard competition," (Woah, what? But she can't stop; it's like she's not in control. The words come fast and rushing, like a torrent she's been holding back for too long. Or maybe like a freaky green fire. Whatever; it's too late is the point, so she keeps going, faster and faster, feeling her heart ache in her chest. "I'm sorry I trapped us in this stupid store... I'm sorry the spell-thingy exploded... I'm sorry I made you wear a mask... I'm sorry I went out with Olaf... and Zane, and Claudia, and..."

But there isn't any more. Or rather there is, but she can't get anything else out, past the tears (and let's face it, the snot) clogging her voice, because she's crying hard now. She's not sure when that happened. She's not sure why she said all that stuff. She wishes she were anywhere else in the world than here, and right now.

And then Justin folds her into his arms, his flash of anger apparently forgotten, washed away by her hurt because that's who he is, and that just makes her cry harder.

"It's okay," he says, by the light of the false fire. He holds her against him, rocking a little, like she was small again, being comforted by her big brother Justin, who was always better at it than anybody else. Not even her parents could make it better the way Justin could. Guess she fell into the fairy tale after all. Even if it was the wrong one.

He strokes her hair, tucking his chin against the top of her head as she cries and cries and tries to stop. "It's okay, Alex. It's okay. It's okay."

And for a little while, it is.

* * *

...Alex must have fallen asleep, because when she wakes again she's curled up by the fire...no, the cauldron... and Justin's jacket is folded under her head. He's unpacking the contents of the pilfered treat bags. Alex sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. (And surreptitiously, on Justin's jacket, the leakage from her nose. What, like she was gonna wipe it on her own shirt?.)

"I got apples," she says, her voice still small. "You like healthy stuff. That's healthy."

Justin pulls one out by its stick. The "apples" are covered in a thick layer of caramel each, dotted with chopped nuts, and laced with white and dark chocolate. He raises his eyebrows, and Alex smiles happily. "Yeah, those."

"Seriously?" Justin passes her a caramel apple and a soda, eyeing the goods with one of those grumpy schoolteacher looks of his.

She takes their scavenged dinner from his hands and goes to work on the cellophane around the apple. "What? It's not like they had bottled water, Justin!"

It takes them a while to get apples unwrapped, because the caramel sticks to the cellophane. While Justin picks the nuts from his one by one, eating them first, Alex digs her teeth into the thick caramel coating, smearing her lips and chin with sticky stuff, taking a bite so big that she has to chew it with her mouth open. No one mentions Alex's outburst. But there's still the other thing.

With her mouth is still full of caramel and apple bits, Alex wipes her chin with the heel of her hand and asks, "So did you figure it out?"

Justin doesn't look up. "Figure what out?"

Alex puts her soda can down too hard. "Uh, the freaky green fire thing that burned a big hole in the wall and wrote words on it? Come on, Justin, stupid and evasive is MY thing. Don't think you can start stealing my stuff just because I cried all over you a minute ago."

That, at least, pulls a smile out of him. "Evasive?"

She grins, "I know, right?" When the smile doesn't fade, she super-sizes it with, "I know some bigger words too. If you're nice to me, I might say them to you later," and wiggles her eyebrows.

Justin blushes, which means things are back to the way they should be. Until he says, softly "It's part of an ancient spell. The stuff on the wall, I mean. I only figured out part of it."

Alex is trying to gnaw the chocolate coating off the top of her apple, but half of it drops into her lap. She fishes it out of the folds of her shirt and tosses it into the cardboard cagebox next to the bounce-house, earning a stern look from her brother. But they're inside; it's not even littering. "Serious? Mr. Smartest-guy-in-the-world, you had almost 24 hours and you only figured out part of it?"

Justin scoots closer to give her his napkin, (she doesn't bother to ask where the hell he found a napkin. He probably keeps them on him; that'd be so Justin of him), and tell her "Alchemy is complicated stuff," while motioning to indicate she should wipe her cheeks... well, her mouth...her nose... she's just a mess, really.

Alex rubs at herself, wishing she had a mirror. Well, there are the dressing rooms... but that's a long walk, and a little caramel coating never hurt anybody. "Al who?" Justin takes his napkin back, and leans in to wipe the tip of her nose with it.

"Alchemy, Alex. "

"Whatever. What does it mean, Professor smart-guy?"

He sighs. "Alchemy is... well, it's an ancient philosophical and magical tradition, that..." He frowns, looking up at her to crumple his napkin in his fist, obviously trying to think of small words for his benefit. She lets him think, and her eyes wander across his face while he zones. After a minute, things seem to click into place again.

"Alchemy is about changing things. It's a transformative art. Magical and material, spiritual and real. Even the most knowledgeable Wizards aren't sure how much of it is real and how much is made up, and humans all think it's most a myth. Like fairy tales." He gestures around them. "Like this. Made up."

"Uh huh." She's only half listening to him. He's still sitting too close, and her gaze without her sayso, drops to his mouth. "You have a little bit of-" She gestures, and Justin rubs his mouth with a knuckle, looking away.

He swallows hard. "Um, anyway, alchemy. The people- the Wizards who believe in it think that certain magical formula and substances, combined with a pure faith, can transmute... " she's still looking at his mouth. He backs up a bit.

Alex bites her lip, and goes back to her apple, eating a little more carefully this time around, because there's probably not another napkin.

"...change metal into gold. Or change other things."

She nibbles at the candy stuck to her thumb. "What other things?"

He swallows. "Spiritual stuff, Alex. You wouldn't be interested." He bites into his own apple, not looking at her.

"I am interested," she insists, intrigued by his avoidance of the subject.

"Well..."

"Jesus Christ, Justin! What did we do in the lab yesterday?!"

"We didn't do anything! It was just a crazy chemical reaction!" he erupts. "Some people think that the ancient alchemical spells can transform matter and immaterial substance, okay? Okay?! Thought! Spirit! The... the human heart!"

Alex has a funny feeling in her chest. She wants to make a joke about that, about hearts and alchemy and something about apples, but she's fresh out of jokes. "Transform them how? From what into what?"

"It... purifies them, I guess. Makes them find their truest, highest form."

"How?"

"With fire."

"Like, green fire?"

Justin puts his apple aside, half-eaten, and begins to toy with his soda can, picking the tab off.

"Yeah, alchemical fire is the reaction. But you need certain things to activate it. You need a catalyst," he says, and Alex thinks of the yellow stuff in the vial she smashed by accident, "...a base elemental spell," and that would be the inky blue junk in the cauldron, "...and an...immaterial element."

"Immaterial element?"

"Yeah. Immaterial means-"

"I know what it means! Justin, why are you being so evasive?" This time, even the big word doesn't pull a smile or a joke from him.

"Well, the other thing you need for that particular spell... I looked it up... I mean, if it even works..."

"Justin, for the love of Peace and Justice!"

"...true love."

"True...?" She stares at him.

"I-it's probably not even real, Alex," Justin snaps. But he won't meet her eyes.

(They don't talk anymore, after that.)

(Alchemy is probably made up, anyway)

(Isn't it?)

* * *

Justin won't allow Alex to liberate any of the inflatable children for use as pillow substitutes, instead balling up his jacket for both of them to use as a pillow (lame) but she does unfold a huge and ugly purple HAPPY TRICKS OR TREATS banner from its throwing it over both of them like a blanket. It's surprisingly comfortable, considering.

Alex nestles up against her big brother, takes most of his crappy "pillow", and closes her eyes. He pretends not to like it, pushing at her with his bony elbow.

"Get off, Alex."

But her only real response is to nuzzle in tighter - hey, it's cold in here, okay, and there are still the haunting cackles of the witches reverberating through the room . When he pushes her away, weakly at best, the fat roll of plastic or rubber or whatever it is pushes her right back into him.

"It's this weird floor," she mumbles into his neck, her voice already thick. "Nah' mfault." If her warm breath makes him shiver, she doesn't notice.

She knows he's pretending not to notice. Not to like it. Not to be okay with it, whatever that means, when she's curled up against him in the dark.

All around them, the sounds of Halloween hoot and snarl and laugh ghoulishly. Tiny voices make wicked promises. Strobe lights flash, and mechanical lanterns flicker. But safe in the candy house, the children sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM? You can't be in here!"

Alex sits up, rubbing her eyes. Funny, that doesn't sound like her alarm clock. She aches all over, her face and hands feel grimy... must have been a hell of a party, because she's not even sure who's she's next t- _Justin? Wait, WHAT?_

Oh, right. Right! It all comes back in a hurry, and she sits up, shaking Justin awake… disoriented, they're staring into the face of rat-man, and by the looks of it, he's one pissed-off rodent. Hunched in the door of Hansel and Gretel's bouncy house, fingers looped around the multi-colored swirlypop acting as a door handle, the little man glares at them. And wow, if looks could kill! It's as though he believes that his stare alone will be enough to send them back to wherever they came from.

"Well, you see," Alex begins as she blinks through the fog in her eyes, rubbing her hands on her jeans and trying push her hair into place. "There's a perfectly logicable reason that-" An excuse is already formulating itself in her mind.

"You kids just can't sneak in here like this," Rat-man howls, cutting her off, and she pushes Justin between her and ratty. "Look, I don't know who you are, but this is simply unacceptable!"

Pinning them in place with his glare, reaches into one of his pant pockets, straining within the voluminous pouch until he finally pulls out a bulky phone. Flipping it open furiously, the store owner begins to press buttons. "When the police get here, you'll just have to explain yourself, now-"

Justin, bless him, begins to sputter some kind of grownup explanation, but Alex is having none of it. The words "police" and "explain yourselves" usually never foreshadow anything pleasant, in experience. (And she's had a little experience.)

Fumbling about her, Alex quickly gathers their stuff and, at the last second, stuffs one of the abandoned masks into her jacket.

"Great customer service," she snaps, rolling her eyes and grabbing her brother's arm. "You know, we were really considering buying that bouncy house, but not anymore. C'mon, Justin, we're leaving!" Tugging on Justin's arm, she pulls them back toward the entrance.

Rat-man follows, shouting something about "insubordination" and "incarceration" but Alex blocks it out. With a last smirk at the store owner, she lets go of Justin and runs.

It's raining, but that hardly seems to matter. Alex and Justin are aching with sleep, sticky caramel and chocolate, rumpled and bleary-eyed, and wildly, recklessly happy. It's They're kids again, running from one of their (okay, usually Alex's) magical shenanigans.

Turning to look at Justin, with rain is plastering his hair to his forehead and slowly washing off the five o'clock shadow of dark chocolate coating his lips and chin, Alex breaks into laughter, slowing to a walk. It's not her usually chilly laugh at someone else's expense but another kind of sound altogether, high and sweet. For a second, Justin glares at her, but it is an affectionate look. It's his "I-like-you-but-family-hate-you" look. After a moment, his lips twitch, then he's smiling too.

"Let's go, dork," Alex murmurs with a tiny smile, reaching for his hand. His fingers latch onto hers and they run.

* * *

They run almost blindly, hand in hand, through what has become a punishing downpour. Before either one of them thinks to ask where they're going, they both find out.

Rounding a corner, Alex and Justin don't see the two people walking toward them until it is almost too late. The siblings screech to a halt, panting.

"Sweetheart?" Justin's voice is odd, and she elbows him in the side and turns to tell him not to call her that, and almost too late she realizes who he's talking to. Oh, no. No. "What are you... doing here?" he asks Juliet his voice filled with disbelief as he glances between his girlfriend and her companion, whom they'd very nearly collided with.

Alex drops his hand, balling it into a cold fist behind her back.

"Mmm," Juliet hums coldly, brushing him off, "Out for a walk." Ignoring poor Justin almost entirely, the blonde stares at Alex with a viciousness that cannot possibly be anything other than completely intentional and utterly heartfelt.

"Good to see you too," Alex remarks sarcastically, glancing briefly over at Juliet's dog. Oh, sorry, her companion. Mason looks just as stunned as Justin, only guiltier. His hand, which had snaked away from Juliet's a moment before, plays compulsively with his hair.

Alex and Juliet share a single, warlike glance: before she can protect herself from her own memory, Alex spinning backward in time, into a darkness she'd rather forget. Into everything she's tried so hard to shield Justin from, to put behind her in the form of one boyfriend after another, everything she's worked so hard to forget rises up, weighing her down with bitter memories, and she's drowning in them. She remembers.

_It's the night of the Wizard Competition._

_The after-party is loud and raucous, and Dad even lets them have a little of the Good Stuff from the locked liquor cabinet that he thinks they don't know about. Mason is there, of course, to celebrate Alex's victory with the family, along with their friends from Wiz-Tec, Zeke and Harper, and most of Justin's delinquents._

_And, of course, Pollyanna's there. Justin's never liked it when Alex calls Juliet that, after the goody two-shoes in that stupid movie, but seriously, it just fits. As soon as she saw how much it drove him nuts, she referred to his girlfriend as Polly whenever she wasn't around. Well, she's around tonight, and she's clinging to Justin like some sort of vine. Not the flowering kind, Alex thinks privately, more like something poisonous. (But where, Alex wonders, did such a mean thought come from? She's always harbored a little animosity toward Justin's girlfriends, but Juliet is probably the best one he's brought home so far… no, Alex has no mean feelings toward the girl, not really, not anything special. She shakes the thought off. She blames the booze.)_

_The evening's more than half over when Alex notices she hasn't seen Mason for… well, a long time. It's not like she keeps tabs on him every minute, after all. Honestly, Alex hadn't even noticed that her boyfriend had disappeared. It's only when the subject of canine wizardry comes up that she turns to say something that will keep Mason from getting overexcited-she can do without a repeat of the rolling-on-the-floor-incident that came around during the televised dog-grooming marathon, thanks very much- that Alex notices that Mason isn't standing beside her, or anywhere else in the room, for that matter. Everyone else is accounted for - (Hugh is showing off his tiny diploma, Olaf hoarding cheese dip while Felix tries to get a couple of pretty elves interested in his wand...) - so where's Mason?_

_Alex turns to see if perhaps Justin knows where Mason has disappeared to, then notices that Justin's date seems to have vacated the premises as well. That's odd (considering she's the clinging-vine type)._

_But perhaps…_

_Oh, no…Mason wouldn't go off with Pollyanna. No, no way. Not after he hurt Alex so horribly during the whole Transylvania incident... and after she took him back. She's overreacting. Booze. It has to be the booze. What did her dad put in these drinks?_

_Still, Alex excuses herself to go to the bathroom, telling herself she's being silly (and she's had too much to drink), while her heart beats fast and her mouth feels funny and dry. After a quick check of the most obvious hiding places yields nothing, she heads for the Lair. Reaching for the handle of the walk-in freezer, she feels a wrench of anxiety in her stomach, as if her stomach knows something she doesn't. But even they wouldn't be that stupid… would they?_

_(She won't realize until much, much later that she'd already relegated Mason to the ranks of Cheater and Dummy, before she ever opened the door.)_

_Alex reaches for her wand… and pauses. Gingerly, she tries the handle, and sure enough… someone… Justin, most likely… has charmed it to stay open, and to stay a portal to the Lair, so that their magical guests can come and go as they please. It's a good idea, too. Unless some of their magical guests are using it for illicit… No. Stop it, Alex, she chides herself. This is, after all, the love of her life she's talking about. And the love of Justin's life, while she's at it._

_With fingers that are hardly trembling at all, Alex grasps the door-handle, takes a breath, and walks in._

_The scene that greets her fills her with… relief. The Lair is, well, empty. Nothing is out of place (so far as she can tell - it's not like she takes inventory.) Nothing appears to be unusual, either. There are no monsters hidden in the dark corners, no telltale glimmers of amateur cloaking devices. And there are definitely no cheating werewolf-vampire combinations tangled on the dusty furniture._

_Alex sags with relief, lets out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and goes back to the party._

_Well, she would have._

_Just as she turns to leave, something catches her eye. There's something off here after all, but it's a small thing, something so tiny that she'd missed it when she came in. The Lair's other door, the one that leads to the Wizard World, is open, just enough to cast a shimmer of light over the carpet._

_Well, that's weird, but hardly cause for alarm. Someone must have left it open when they came back from the competition. Or one of the many guests they're entertaining tonight forgot to close it when they arrived. Alex crosses the room to close the door, letting out a strangled breath as she nearly collides with a half-wasted Mason just as he comes stumbling through the portal. And he's not alone. Of course._

_Mason begins to stammer out what is, undoubtedly, a lame-ass excuse, "S-sweetheart, wh-what are you doing here, I was just, I went to out to get a, that is-"_

_The poor dope has never been good at thinking on his feet, and Alex Russo doesn't even hesitate. She draws back her right arm (the arm she uses to beat people), and slaps him, hard right in the face._

_Mason's wounded look hurts her, but not as much as the rumpled appearance of his clothes, the flush she's all too used to seeing coloring his usually pale British hide, or the Sour Cherry lipstick smeared across his mouth, as if he'd been trying to put it on without a mirror._

_After regaining her composure, Juliet just stands back, smirking, arms folded across her middle, looking entertained._

_"But Darling!" Mason splutters, sloppy drunk. Even now, he's so cute and so familiar that it tears Alex apart to look at him._

_Alex spins toward, tears and hot anger making her eyes shine. She leans in, intimately close, as if for a kiss. The werewolf stumbles back, away from the fire in her eyes._

_"You smell like vanilla and death," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. They will be the last words she ever says to him. It seems pretty obvious that she wants them to get the hell out of her home. Gulping, Mason leaves the room at a high trot, a lope that's not quite a run but badly wants to be, proving that he's not quite as stupid as he looks. Juliet, on the other hand, leans against the now-closed door with her arms crossed, grinning. It's just the two of them, now. Her fangs glint in the light._

_"I thought you had a soul," Alex snarls, not wasting words, or time. Her tongue feels like lead, and suddenly, she's quite tired._

_The blonde shrugs and licks her mouth (now naked of lipstick) with the tip of her tongue. Alex thinks of the tongues of snakes._

_"Guess it didn't take," Juliet purrs. "It happens."_

The memory is so clear, so present and cutting, that for a moment she wonders if Juliet is doing it on purpose somehow, if that's the kind of thing the toothy bitch might have it in her power to project into her head. But more likely it's just Alex's own guilty conscience, sharpened by her months of agony. She reels back, away from the vampire and from the memory, and doesn't stop until she comes up against something warm and solid, unyielding. She suddenly feels the cold rain that's been running down the back of her neck since they fled HALLOWEENTOWN, and starts to shiver.

"Alex," Justin murmurs, "What's wrong?" Even in the confusion (and hurt) of the moment, he has the presence of mind to wrap a steadying arm around Alex, who really does feel as if she might fall over. "Alex? Are you okay?"

Alex shudders, with more than the rain. The question slides into her mind, pulling her back into that other night, the night of the Wizard Competition.

_"Alex, what's wrong?"_

_After she'd fled the Lair, dazed with hurt and confusion, Alex hadn't been able to return to the party (understandably). She'd torn through the chaos of revelry in the substation, up the stairs, and would have escaped into her bedroom- Except that Zeke and harper are already making out in there (uh, gross?), and she's so twisted by what's just happened that she doesn't even have the presence of mind to throw them out, or the heart to punish them for what they're doing in her personal space. Instead she turns and heads for the terrace, which turns out to be the last private and unviolated place left in the restaurant or the loft._

_Well, it would have been._

_As she goes to pull the sliding door shut behind her, it won't move because..._

_"Alex?"_

_...because there's someone in the way, some busybody who followed her flight from the Lair and then the Substation, which not even her parents could be bothered to noticed amidst the noise and the fun. Somebody who ought to mind his own goddamned business for once!_

_"Alex, what happened? What's wrong?" Justin's kind face is so troubled, worried for her, his troublesome baby sister._

_"Leave me alone, Justin!" she snaps, putting as much spite into her words as she can. But as usual, Justin is too pigheaded to listen. He follows her onto the terrace, where a soft rain has begun to fall, and pulls the door shut behind them._

_"No," he says, quietly and not unkindly. "Now what's this about?"_

_"Just leave me alone!" she howls again, the tears she's been fighting now teeming out her eyes, getting mixed up with the guilt and the anger and the rain. And suddenly she's in his arms, not sure and not caring if he grabbed her or she reached for him. She's in her brother Justin's arms and he's holding her tight, a shield against all the horrible things that she's learning the world can do to her, and it's like the best, safest place in the. He is. Justin is the best place in the world._

_She can't talk, at first. The sobs get worse and worse until they're hurting her, causing her actual physical pain, - her face is a mess of tears and rain and slimy stuff, her heartbreak streaming down her face and onto the front of Justin's clean plaid button-down. She's getting drenched. They both are._

_Justin holds her with a patience she wouldn't have suspected him of, stroking her hair and her back, making soothing noises. When her breath isn't hitching and she can talk again, Alex wipes her nose on her sleeve (she'll change later), looks up into her brother face, and stammers half the truth: "I-it's Mason."_

_The way Justin's holding her doesn't change, but she feels him tense up agianst her - and she hears the dangerous undercurrent running through his voice when he speaks. "What'd he do, Alex? If he hurt you, so help me, I'll-"_

_"He didn't hurt me!" she says quickly. "He just, there's just..." she hesitates, and it's as if an entire world hangs in the balance. Alex's world._

_"...there's just someone else," she whispers, unable to come right out with it, unable to admit who she'd caught him with._

_"That.. that bastard," Justin hisses, and Alex is impressed, even through her pain, because she can count on one hand the number of times she's heard him cuss, with fingers left over. " I can only imagine what I'd do, how I'd feel, if Juliet ever…" Justin can't even finish the sentence. He closes his eyes for a second, and Alex knows him too well to not know that he's fighting against the tears that come at the very thought of his vampire-girlfriend's betrayal. And in that moment, Alex understands that she can never, ever tell him. So he holds her and she cries and he doesn't, and she never tells him. Not ever. She can't._

_He must have felt her tense, because arms stiffen around her as his face reddens. "That stupid ugly mutt... I'll tear him apart. He'll never show his face around here again, honey... I swear it." He strokes the wet tendrils of hair away from his sister's face, framing it in his long-fingered hands as he looks into her eyes, and... and something happens to Alex._

_Right in the middle of the rain and the heartbreak and the secrets, something changes inside her forever. Time stops._

_"It's okay," she says, only it comes out in a whisper. "...Mason's not worth it." As she says it, she realizes it's true. Despite his cute accept and his (previously) devoted ways, she's never felt for Mason one-tenth of what she feels right now, a thing that's bright and sparkling like Christmas and Birthdays and getting out of a math test, all in one. In fact... she's never felt it before, period._

_Justin watches her face soften, and maybe misunderstanding her meaning, says gently, "You're right. He isn't. But you are. Nobody's gonna hurt you and get away with it, Alex. Not while I'm around."_

_Alex slides her hands up his arms (sodden shirt-sleeves on top, firm strength beneath) and laces her fingers at the nape of his neck. "Really?"_

_Justin doesn't peel her hands away, or make a goofy joke to defect the tension of the moment. He holds her against him, water dripping from and between them, and Alex becomes aware of the damp heat where their bodies touch. And elsewhere. She wonders, distantly, if this feeling might kill her, because it seems to be expanding and expanding, and already it's nearly too much to take._

_Justin says, "Really... I promise. It's kind of my job to take care of you."_

_But they're still looking at each other, as if there's nothing else in the world worht looking at. Maybe there's not. Justin leans toward Alex (does he? did he? In the days and months to come, Alex will torture herself, trying to decide if she made that part up)..._

_And there's a tapping, on the glass door. They pull away from one another as if sharing a single, guilty thought..._

_It's Juliet._

Shivering, Alex comes back to the present. She's backed away from the vampire-bitch as far as she can go, her back pressed against her brother.

"Alex? Are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay."

After a few more minutes of obligatory humiliation, Justin leaves with Juliet. All the way down the street, Alex can hear snatches of their argument. But that's nothing special. Probably half of New York can, at their decibel.

"What were you doing with-"

"Well I could ask you the same-"

"Sneaking around!"

"You never even..."

"Your own sister, Justin!"

Together by accident, Alex and Mason watch them go. Next to her, Mason shivers like a wet dog; Juliet took the umbrella they were sharing, just as she'd taken Justin. Alex almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

"I guess, umm...?" he fumbles, trying to tag along at her heel. Alex gives him a black look, a look that's hard enough to make him stumble back several paces. She turns her back on him, and walks away alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Alex's wand is ringing.

Even though the din of the Helping Hands office is ridiculous, even though she's been hunched over the ancient computer for almost an hour trying to finish the flyers HH wants, she answers it on the very first ring.

She's been doing that all day. And all day, she's been telling herself to knock it off. To stop acting like she's so eager to talk to whoever's on the other end. Telling herself she could at least wait for two rings. That herself she needs to make whoever-it-is wait, she has to. Because it might be Justin. It's probably Justin: she hasn't talked to him since the incident with Mason and Juliet. When he calls, she doesn't want him to think she's too anxious to talk to him.

_(But why hasn't he called?)_

She holds the wand to her ear. "Hello? Yes, speaking." She listens for a moment. "Uh-huh... no, tomorrow's fine. And we can use the commons, right? No, I'll bring the set. Uh-huh. Okay, great... thanks!" When she hangs up, her mood has improved at least a little. Now she only has to finish these flyers. And when Justin calls... well, never mind him. She has things to do. Important things.

_(When he calls, she'll make him sorry he's kept her hanging like this.)_

The office of Helping Hands, the nonprofit where Alex works (well, volunteers) is small and shabby. Everything about it, from the worn and thin carpet, (a recycled Magic Carpet that's flown its last), to the drab walls, worn furnishings and harassed staff, tells a story of an organization with too much to do and not enough resources to do it with. It's the story of most small nonprofit startups, Wizarding and otherwise, familiar and hopeful. There are too many desks too close together, each Wizard trying to ignore the noise and proximity of the others.

As a rule, Alex is pretty good at ignoring, and on most days it doesn't get to her. Today is an exception. With so much going on around preparations for the benefit at Wiz-Tech, telephones (not to mention wands) ring almost constantly, and the rattle of fingers against keyboards completes with noisy printers and noisy volunteers. Almost, you wouldn't even know it was part of the Wizard World... Well, unless you happened to look out of the window, that is. Past their windows, a molten river rolls and boils. The one time Alex asked, her boss, a half-elf called Mimi, had shrugged, saying with a grimace, "Volcano-Land's upstream... keeps the rent down," and jerked a thumb in the direction of the theme park based (literally) on a live volcano. Tacked up on the wall next to the window, an overwise poster showing the "Helping Hands" logo (a big pair of cartoon hands embracing a smaller one) is starting to curl at the edges from the heat.

Alex doesn't really mind. Sure, it's gonna be kind of a bitch in the summertime, but it isn't summer now, and the heat rising from the banks of the lava river helps keep the building warm. Which is probably good, considering how little they have to spent on heat and utilities. At any rate you can't see it very well right now, because it's still raining hard, cold sheets of water streaming past the windows and obscuring most of the view. It's been three days since she's seen Justin... and it's been raining that whole time. Not that she cares. The phone on her desk next to hers rings, and her head flies up... she scowls when she sees that it's not for her.

"Alex?"

She frowns, turning around. God, what? It's Mimi, looking harried as usual, her blonde hair sticking out so that only the tips of her pointed ears show, holding a clipboard and wearing an aggrieved expression. "There's some guy here to see you. I told him he'd have to wait outside in the lobby.

_Justin!_

Alex gets out of her chair with a show of nonchalance, although who she's showing it to isn't particularly clear. Mimi isn't likely to notice or give a damn if she did, her assorted co-workers are too busy to care, and Justin is still on the other side of the door. Knock it off, Alex, she scolds herself. Alex smoothes her hair, glances down at her outfit quickly to make sure she's not out of place, and gathers her worry and impatience and relief into a tight ball in her middle. Already planning what she'll say - _His nerve! Leaving her in the rain like that, just walking off!_ - she opens the door to the equally dingy lobby. _He'll have to make it up to her... if he's lucky!_ She's got her speech all ready, just like that, because words have never been a problem for Alex, and as she walks into the lobby she turns to Mason and says...

Wait. What?

_Mason?_

"Mason, what are you doing here?" she hisses.

* * *

Mason stands shivering just inside the entrance to the HH lobby, a dim little room in which he can smell the comings and goings of dozens of feet; adults and children, male and female. It's Wizard-scent mainly, but others too; Elf, Ogre, Mortal. Something's happened here in the last few days, something interesting enough to leave the astringent spice of excitement fizzling in the air - not fresh, but still here, and he can just catch it. Something's going on here, and in other circumstances he might have taken time to find out what it was. But those intriguing smells are just background noise... he's here for Alex.

It's taken him forever to find her, nosing around downtown, asking questions. They were together for one moment and then Alex had disappeared in the rain. Despite his keen tracking abilities, it'd been like their paths had never crossed at all. He'd wanted to go with her then, follow her and beg he for another chance... but one black look was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. In their months of separation, Mason hasn't never forgotten Alex Russo... how could he?... and he'd definitely never forgotten her temper, her fire, the ferocity she could bring down on him on those rare occasions when her ire was roused. So much time had passed, and Mason is still afraid of her.

_And he wants her._

After a brief, unpleasant interaction with the little woman who smelt like an elf with an attitude problem, she'd banged out the door and into the back office, leaving Mason waiting in the empty room, where he drips rainwater on the carpet, and shivers, and waits. An eternity slides past. Then the door opens again, more gently this time, and she is here. Alex. His angel, the love of his life.

If he had a tail, he'd be wagging it. She shines like the sun.

Alex comes into the room briskly, with her head up and a familiar fire in her expression... but when she sees him, she stops cold. Her face falls; all the joy leaks out of her. Her beautiful eyes narrow, and she hisses, "Mason. What are you doing here?"

Mason gulps, hands nervously trying to straighten his rumpled clothes without success, trying not to see himself through her eyes. His clothes are dirty and crumpled, slept-in. He needs a haircut and a bath, and he knows his eyes must be swollen, red. He's been weathering a personal hailstorm of loss since the last time they met; first Alex (again) and then Juliet. It's difficult to say which has been worse. But it doesn't matter now. He knows what he wants, now. He swallows hard, and stammers, "Alex. I-I couldn't help it, I had to come see you."

He can see the hurt in her face, which he hadn't expected. Then her features harden into a mask of anger, which he had. "Does Juliet know you're off you're leash?"

He shakes his head, not answering the question so much as negating it. "This isn't about Juliet, my love..."

"_Don't call me that!_" She advances on him, and he retreats a step or two. She's beautiful, he thinks, and the little lift of joy in his heart is completely unfair. "What do you want, Mason?"

"After I saw you the other day... when I was with... " He doesn't finish the sentence. "...and you were with your brother, I knew I had to see you again, Alex. Werewolves are incredibly loyal, as you know, and... Honey, I've missed you so much." He reaches for her, making his best puppydog eyes, and she shoves him backward.

"Yeah, well, at least that makes one of us. Mason, you need to leave. I have things to do." Her voice is hard, and colder than the rain outside. She begins to turn away, and he moves to block her path.

"Alex, don't you think we deserve another chance? After all we've been through." Desperation is rising in him like a tide; his canine heart bruised and near to broken. If Juliet doesn't want him... and Alex won't take him back... what is Mason going to _do_? Mason knows, though it shames him, that he needs a strong woman in his life to take the lead, as Alex had when they met. As Juliet had, that night after the Wizard Competition. Werewolves weren't meant to make choices. He takes a deep breath over the frightened thudding of his heart, and tries again. "Alex. Seeing you the other day just made me realize how much I've missed you, how badly I need you back. It- it was wrong of my to do what I did, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! And with Juliet out of the picture, with us meeting by, by fate as we did, it seems like we're meant to get back togeth-"

Alex holds up a hand like a traffic cop. "_Wait_... Stop. Rewind. With uliet who-what now?"

For a moment, he looks at her as if she should know what he's talking about... dazed by the sight of her, he's forgotten to explain. "Juliet- she's gone, my love. She's, she's leaving in a few days. Back to... what did she say? Transylvania."

Alex stares at him as if he's gone mad. Which may be more or less the case. There's been too much love and loss in one week for a heart like Mason's. Too much for a mind like his to wrap itself around. She spits, _"Transylvania? Where the Mummy is?"_

The canine shrugs, helplessly. "I guess? That's not important, love. What's important is you and I, our relationship. Our future. We can finally-"

"Does Justin know?"

Mason's head spins. Justin... her brother? Right. But why is that important? Why now, when they're so close to being together that he can practically taste- smell it? She's still staring at him, her perfect features flat and unreadable.

"Mason, _d__oes Justin know_?"

"I... I think so... yes. Yes, she said something about telling him off when she came to get her things from my place." He brightens with the memory, "She told him two days ago. The night after we... ran into each other," he whimpers, still giving her, or trying to give her, his puppydog face."

Alex's face flares with alarm, and Mason can sense her anxiety rise as her heartbeat speeds and her smell changes subtly. Misunderstanding, he rushes on to reassure her, trying to take control of the conversation: "Don't worry love... she's gone now, and she won't be important thing here is that you and I..."

Alex comes back from wherever she's gone, composure returning to her features. But instead of the happy reconciliation he'd hoped to read there, something like fury clouds her eyes. She moves forward, backing him toward the door. "Get out, Mason"

"W-what?" But things have been going so well! "But, sweetheart! We can be good together again...I still say all those cute British things that you like so much... a woman shouldn't be alone, Alex... Alex, you need me!" he all but howls, a doggy look of misery falling onto his face.

"_No_," she says flatly, reaching around him to open the door. "...and what I'm starting to realize, is that I never did."

Pulling herself together, she gives the werewolf his walking papers. "Well, since you're so loyal and all... maybe you should use your keen dog-sniffing abilities, and find the bitch."

She's been gradually backing him toward the door, and as he gives her his most pleading puppy-dog face, she pushes him out into the rain, like a dog who's done something dirty on the carpet. "I'm not going to be your fallback plan again, Mason, " she says, "Not right now. And not ever. Now go find Juliet and see if she still needs a plan B. Or a pet. Or whatever it is that you two weirdos do together. Her eyes brighten with humor and something else. "Go on, Mason..." she pauses, as if relishing the taste of the cruelty in her mouth, _"...Heel."_

* * *

Alex shuts the door in his face, then hurries out of the room to gather her things and mumble a hurried explanation to her boss. She's going to need to leave work a little early.

* * *

Justin isn't asleep. Really. He's not.

Head cradled in his arms, the head of Wiz-Tech drift in and out of consciousness. Snatches of conversation, shards of images, float in his mind like things underwater.

_Magic does what it wants._

Justin is exhausted; he hasn't been outside the walls of Wiz-Tech for at least 36 hours.

_Your own sister, Justin!_

Under the guise of urgent administrative work and last-minute preparation for the HH benefit party, he's immersed himself in one near-mindless task after another, moving seamlessly from grading to party planning to scheduling to lesson plans. Several times now, and without success so far, he's tried to explain to the school custodian what exactly happened to in the chem lab. And he's been to visit Professor Crumbs, his old mentor, to try to explain it to himself.

_I'm sorry, Justin! I'm sorry trapped us in this stupid store... I'm sorry I made you wear a mask..._

_I'm sorry I won the Wizard Competition_

He's eaten little and slept less, but exhaustion has finally caught up with him. he just meant to put his head down for a minute - to rest his eyes. Honest.

_I'm sorry I went out with Olaf... and Zane..._

He isn't even in his office, but rather in the classroom-half of the chem lab, slumped over the grading he'd abandoned on the night that Alex dragged him off to that ridiculous costume shop. When they'd been locked up together overnight (that part hadn't been so bad, not that he'd want to admit it to Alex), escaped criminal prosecution the following morning (bad)... and subsequently run into Juliet and that bastard Mason, almost literally (Very bad.) All the way home, they'd fought.

_I never know when I'll see you anymore_, he'd told her, that night in the rain. _I never know where to find you._ And that much was true. Over the last few months, things had deteriorated between them until it was more like living with a roommate than having a girlfriend. A roommate who didn't seem to like him much.

_No_, she'd told him, her smile chilly, _but I always know where to find you. Don't I, Justin?_

Stung, he'd gaped. _ I have to work a lot, you know that! I haven't reached tenure! You know I'm doing it for the both of us!_

_Oh,_ she'd said, leaning closer, as if she enjoying proximity while twisting the knife into him,_ that's not what I'm talking about. Even when you're not working, I'm not the first person you seek out, am I? You're always with _her_, Justin. You're at work, or your'e with Alex. Has it ever occurred to you that that isn't normal?_

_She's my sister!_

_Exactly. Your own sister, Justin. It's not normal._

Juliet's parting words still throb in his ears.

_I can't do this. It's not 're just not what I need._

_Besides, I think we both know..._ Justin can still visualize her pink lips, twisted into an unkind smile around the protruding fangs._ I think we both know that you're looking for something else._

_I think we both know what it is._

Above and behind him on the wall, the mysterious words of the ancient alchemical text seem to float like a caption. The accidental chemical reaction had still been working, apparently, when they left, because now all the words of the spell are visible... but he still doesn't understand them. It's the third thing that's been keeping him from sleep, or food, or rest: Juliet's absence from his life, Alex's presence in it, and the alchemical mystery hovering above his head and in his heart.

**_There is no light, but what lives in the Sunne;_**

**_There is no Sunne, but which is twice begott;_**

**_Nature and Arte the Parents first begonne:_**

**_By Nature 'twas, but Nature perfects not._**

**_Arte then what Nature left in hand doth take,_**

**_And out of One a Twofold worke doth make._**

**_A Twofold worke doth make, but such a worke_**

**_As doth admitt Division none at all_**

**_(See here wherein the Secret most doth lurke)_**

**_Unlesse it be a Mathematicall._**

**_It must be Two, yet make it One and One,_**

**_And you do take the way to make it None._**

**_Lo here the Primar Secret of this Arte,_**

**_Contemne it not but understand it right,_**

**_Who faileth to attaine this formost part,_**

**_Shall never know Artes force nor Natures might._**

**_Nor yet have power of One and One so mixt,_**

**_To make by One fixt, One unfixid fixt._**

It makes no sense. Justin's a scientist, just as much as he is a Wizard. He's been trying to work out exactly what happened that day, to understand it so he can recreate it, contain it, can study it until it makes sense. But he's had no luck in that, either. And the archaic texts he's dug up, the stuff about alchemy and spirit and love as a magical element, those are less than unhelpful.

He'd even appealed to Crumbs, making a visit to the old Wizard, who was retired but still in touch with his former student, the question couched in terms of pure scientific curiosity, as something he'd run across in his research. (Not entirely a lie, actually.)

_"Well," the Ancient had mused, stroking his whiskers, "The most literal interpretation of Alchemy, as you must know, Justin, is the transmutation, or the changing, of lead into gold."_

_They'd been seated in Crumbs' study, teacups and a tray of cookies before them. The coffee table was carved with rune symbols, and Justin lowered his gaze to trace them with his fingers. He felt oddly schoolboyish, now that he was here with the very Wizard who'd bestowed his powers on him, not even a year ago. He felt-shy. Self-consciousness crept up his spine._

_"What about...", he'd hesitated, "Spiritual Alchemy? The one that defines..." he coughed, "certain emotional states as magical elements?"_

_"Ah, that." Crumbs had stirred a third of fourth spoonful of sugar into his tea, making Justin wince. "Well, all Alchemy is about change, Justin. The uniting of two imperfect things to create one perfect whole. Rather than lead into gold, the other kind of alchemy leads to the perfection... the purification... of the essence of a man, Justin. Or a Wizard, as the case may be. Uniting, as it were, the mysteries of the material and the spiritual. The mind and the heart." Crumbs waved his hand in the air. "Et cetera, et cetera. Would you like a little more tea?"_

_"No thank you, Sir," Justin had murmured demurely, his brain working furiously._

_Crumbs continued, "I mean, it's a fascinating idea, Justin. But it's a myth, of course. Never been done. Where did you say you came across it?"_

_"Er, in some alchemical texts I found in my research, " Justin had lied, growing more uneasy by the moment. "Listen, Professor Crumbs: Could... do you think Alchemy could be used on... I don't know, two people at once?"_

_Crumbs had helped himself to a cookie. "I suppose, in theory."_

_"What do you think would happen to them?"_

_The old man had seemed to consider. "I suppose it would still increase their power, especially if they were part of the Wizard World to begin with.._

_"But it wouldn't hurt them?"_

_Crumbs thought for a moment. "Hurt them, no. But because the nature of Alchemy is to unite to disparate chemical or magical substances, it might unite them in some way..."_

_Justin had paled then. "Into one person, you mean?"_

_But Crumbs shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. You're being too literal. It's a spiritual alchemy we're talking about, and deals in the immaterial... no, if such a thing could be done, it would potentially unite them at a heart or spirit level... making them extremely powerful, but they'd need to be, well, together, in order to make it work. United physically and spiritually. That's why the allegorical text associates it with true love... or, as you called it, an emotional state." A smile ghosted across the old man's face. "Any prolonged separation would be extremely painful, making ordinary life difficult for one or both. But..."_

_"But?"_

_"But it's an extremely unlikely scenario. For the alchemy to work in the first place, the two people would have to be extraordinarily well-suited - they'd need to be perfect opposites and perfectly matched.. what mortals call "soulmates"." He'd peered at Justin. "That does happen, you know. But it's extremely rare. Usually, it's just a case of wishful thinking." He sips his tea, and tries to look wise. "Justin... is something the matter between you and Juliet?"_

_"No, of course not!" Justin said, too quickly. "Um, but if that chemical reaction actually did take place... just for sake of scientific inquiry, of course... what do you think would happen to the two people? Theoretically?"_

_Crumbs peers at him. Justin knows the old man is much cannier than he lets on, and he tries to think innocent thoughts. "Hard to say, Russo," Crumbs murmurs. "Almost anything could happen. Improbable magic. Immense power. Complete immolation. You know what they say, my dear boy: _Magic does what it wants_."_

The memory of his chat with Crumbs clears, and Justin groans in his half-sleep.

_Magic does what it wants._

For the first time since he can remember, he's been completely abandoned by his twin allies, science and reason.

And he's so very, very tired. He's maybe drooling a little. Can't be bothered to wake up and find out.

It isn't his fault, he thinks, dreamily, head buried on his arms. He's haunted. He's haunted by the sound of Juliet's voice, shouting over the sound of the rain, to tell him that she doesn't love him anymore. He's haunted by the image of Alex, her face lit by the cauldron and dancing with shadows. There are so many shadows, these days. The mystery of the alchemical text throbs in his head like a fever-dream, as if he's been infected by its cryptic prose.

He really should get up and go home... and he will. In a minute. Honest. He's going to rest his eyes, no more than that... for just a little longer. Surrounded by a darkness he doesn't understand, he sleeps. And dreams.

_("Promise me we'll find normal people, Justin?")_

_("We aren't normal people.")_

_Magic does what it wants._

Justin shivers in his sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Because I'm not a plagiarist - The Alchemical spell on the wall is a poem called Aenigma Philosophicium, written by D.D. W. Bedman a long time ago. You can find it on the alchemywebsite, if you're curious. And if you're wondering about Alchemy in general, which is fascinating stuff, Wiki is much more straightforward. But don't expect to find a lot of direct correlation with Justin and Alex's particular brand of mad alchemy on either website... I made a lot of that stuff up.

C.


	7. Chapter 7

The final bell of the day rang hours ago, and the dim halls of Wiz-Tech are as old and dark as any fairytale wood, and during the day they're often inhabited by the kind of creatures you'd expect find in one. But right now, they're empty.

Well, mostly empty.

In the dark of the wide, still halls, a little sister moves through them at an increasingly frantic pace, her heels clicking against the stone floor and the hollow sound echoing back to her, as she rushes to save her big brother from an evil woman, or from a cage, or maybe just from the world. Like Gretel, saving Hansel from the witch.

* * *

It's taken Alex twice as long to get to Wiz-Tech as was supposed to. Getting away from the office was a nightmare, as one pseudo-crisis after another demanded her attention. Now she's here, in Wiz-Tech, worry building in her stomach and rising in a wave up her body as she prowls the empty school looking for her brother. The sense of urgency is, frankly, really annoying. It began the while she was still face-to-face with Mason's ugly mug, and it's grown with each delay, until it's something of a monster. Nothing short of the sight and proximity of Justin is going to help, now. Alex has no idea what she hopes to do for him, once she finds him. She just knows that she needs to hurry up and find him, so she can do it.

It isn't really like her, under normal circumstances, to be so concerned about Justin's welfare; it definitely isn't like her to make such an obvious display of it. But these aren't normal circumstances, are they? This is, more or less, the end of the world.

(Alex's world, at least.)

Since the night of the Wizard Competition, Alex Russo has lived inside a secret. It's not a nice secret, and it's not a very nice place to live, but it's hers; for months she's protected it, a sort of human shield against the knowledge of Juliet's betrayal. She's lived huddled up around the sharp edges of the thing she's sure is going to cut the heart out of her brother. Carrying it with her all the time, she's become exhausted. Secrets are heavy, to carry arround.

She's tried, of course, to put it down. Frantic to drown her guilt and loneliness, to find a place to set it down, she's thrown herself into disposable relationshps with one guy after another. She knows she should feel guilty, for breaking their hearts, but it's hard to After all, she hasn't done any damage to their hearts that she didn't do to her own first... which adds up to a bizarre kind of justice, in Alex's view of the world.

And between heartaches, always, she goes back to Justin. Justin, who always tells her he's disappointed in her, but never tells her no. She shows up on his doorstep (or more likely, in his office), looking a mess, with tears in her eyes and secrets in her head, waiting for Justin to make it better. Every time, it's the night on the terrace all over again. The night in jungle they don't talk about. It's Justin and Alex against the world, and he's her safe place. Justin protects her. Alex protects him. It's maybe a little twisted what they've got... but it works.

(Or it has, anyway, up until now.)

Now it's all come crashing down. The sharp-edged thing knowledge that Alex has been hurting herself to keep from him is loose in the world, and Alex is afraid. She knows that the timing of the betrayal isn't what matters, because she knows another secret inside the first: Alex's brother Justin, Justin-the-hero, Justin-the-smartest-guy-in-the-world, Justin-who-always-shows-Alex-up... he's fragile.

Alex knows about heartbreak. She knows all too well it turns you inside out and cracks open your life. How it makes you someone other than yourself. Justin's fragile, and if she's being honest... she doesn't know what he'll do without Juliet. For a long time now, Juliet has been what made Justin feel good about himself. Like he was a grownup, a real man. Like he was someone other than the nerdy guy who couldn't get a date in high school, whose parents never came to his academic events because they weren't real sports, whose only friend was just this side of mentally deficient. Juliet made Justin feel real.

It's like she can hear it, the sounds of a falling world. She's surrounded by the crashing-in sound of dropped secrets, and she's afraid of what she might find in the wreckage. She hopes that he's only bruised and not entirely broken.

What will Justin do, without Juliet?

(And, more importantly, what will Alex do without Justin?)

She stalks the halls, moving as quickly as she can: he's not in the lounge. Not in the nasty cafeteria, or any of the classrooms she passes by. His office is dark and probably locked, so she doesn't even bother with rattling the doorhandle. So that just leaves...

With a sinking heart, Alex realizes she probably does know where to find Professor Russo. She groans, then retraces her steps, takes a sharp left, and heads for the creepy scienced-up room where, less than a week ago, they'd made things explode.

* * *

Asleep across his desk, Justin is dreaming his life back into place.

In his dreams, Juliet comes back to him, repentent and loving. He transforms her back into the girl who adores him, a beautiful blonde with an appetite for mushy sentimentality (and the occasional spider), a girl who's not intimidated by his big brains, not put off by his unsexy passion for science and history. In his dreams, Justin's girlfriend isn't the coldblooded creature who's been gradualy receding from him over the past few months, sleeping somewhere other than the bed they share. In his dreams, she's waiting for him when he comes home at night. In his dreams, Justin knows something he'd never admit in the conscious hours: dreams are are better truer magic than any incantation, more powerful than any wand the Wizard World has to offer.

He dreams that Alex is a little sister, nothing more. She's the bratty but almost tolerable companion of his childhood, who usually makes his life miserable and occasionally saves it, but she's a family member and nothing more. One who sometimes drops by to inconvenience him... during normal visiting hours. In his dreams she's a perfectly ordinary sister, not an unpredictable moving earthquake. She never appears like an apparition in the small hours, demanding his time and his money and his love, challenging his patience and sanity. She's not a dark, wet-gleaming creature who shows up almost nightly his dreams, making him question the good things he believes about himself.

Justin dreams that the strange alchemy between them never happened... or if it happened it didn't change anything important, didn't do anything more lasting than make him rethink the wisdom of mixing Alex and volatile chemicals and magic and lack of sleep. He draws a veil across what happened in the lab, until he can't see it anymore. The words written on the wall disappear as if they'd never been at all. He dreams the paint back on, bright and clean, concealing scars and imperfections and truths that make Justin uncomfortable.

The problem with dreams, of course, is that you have to wake up.

* * *

In the doorway of the chemistry lab, Alex stands frozen.

It's weird, too, because couple of minutes ago, all Alex wanted to do was move. Move. It was like she couldn't stop, her restlessness prickling her from the insidelike an itch she couldn't get to, a pain she couldn't reach to soothe.

But now... now she's frozen. Standing stock-still. Alex is leaning up against the doorway again, propped there like she was the night she came crash Professor Big-head's little party and take him shopping. But now the energy has run out of her... the sight of him has done that.

At least the knot in the center of her has eased, because she's found Justin. But something about the sight of him hurts.

Maybe it's the slumped-over, sloppy look of him: that part's not right. Always, Justin is meticulous to a fault, especially about his appearance. This worn-out posture just isn't Justin. He doesn't look like 's something loose and untucked about him, his shirt wrinkled, his perfect posture long gone as he hunches to put his head in his arms, his slightly open mouth as he snores. Even his paperwork is wrong, its perfect edges knocked askew by the weight of him. More than anything, it's the unwashed, unloved weariness of Justin that knocks her back now, makes her want to stand there and not move for a while. He looks lost and uncared for, and it's the last part that hurts her the most. She hasn't seen him like this since... well, since the first time he lost Juliet. To the Mummy.

(Man, the girl's been nothing but trouble. Really, Alex should have let Harper douse her with garlic powder like she wanted to, back when she first showed up.)

Alex... well, she doesn't know what to do. He looks so tired. She can't bear to leave him like this. But she can't bear to wake him, either. Luckily, Alex Russo has never been one to let a lack of options slow her down. So... she retrieves her wand from her left boot, and does something else.

* * *

In pieces, Justin's life falls back into place. It's safe, sane, and normal. Finally, he dreams himself back into his own bed. He dreams he's comfortable and warm, tucked-in with a real pillow and a soft blanket, instead of a hard chair for a bed and a stack of books for a pillow. He's... he's being tucked in for real, the blankets wrapped close around him, as if he was a child. It's remarkably comforting, and Justin is glad it's not real, because it might be embarrassing. "There, you big wuss," says his angel, his Juliet, in his dreams, "...all better now?"

But it _is_ better. Justin is asleep.

* * *

The trouble with dreams is that you have to wake up, and Justin wakes up alone. He's stiff and sore from sleeping with his head on his desk all night, a blanket around his shoulders and his hand clutching a bundle of cloth. Wait, what?

Head aching, Justin wakes to the sound of his blaring alarm clock. But the sound isn't right. For some reason, he isn't hearing the familiar, rattling and siren-like shock of his regular alarm, but instead a blaring music. Struggling toward the surface of consciousness, he recognizes the jarring notes of a pop tune he's heard before... something about breaking up in a text message? Groaning, he reaches out to quiet it.

He can't even remember how he got home.

Justin's never been a big believer in hitting the "snooze" button (why set the alarm if you're just going to keep sleeping? It's like cheating, somehow), but right now he's seriously tempted. He doesn't. Instead he pulls himself into a sitting posiiton, yawning hugely, lifting his hands to his grimy face to rub the sleep out. Beneath him, the bed jiggles gently but insistently in response to his movements. He must be really disoriented, because for a moment, the walls themselves seem to sway, as he opens his eyes lazily on soft caramel-colored light.

_Wait._

_Where am I?_

Groggy but with increasing alarm, he smears the last of the sleep from his eyes, wincing as real life rushing back in to make his brain hurt. Blinking at himself and his surroundings, he sees that what he'd been sleeping under, and had taken for a blanket is actually a rather heavy satin cape that's been wrapped around neatly him, keeping him warm. The "pillow" under his head is a roll of plastic or rubber that the floor appears to be made of. And the bundle clutched in his hand is a ragged bit of cloth which, when carefully released... turns out to be a soft mask, just a scrap of cloth with eyes cut out of it really, that will tie behind his head like a blindfold.

When he unfolds the eye mask, a small white object falls out. Justin's face scrunches in curiosity, but as his brain clicks into gear and his surroundings sink in, he realizes he has more important things to worry about.

Shivering walls and bed... candy-colored light filtering in through thick latices made of rubber... a bed that bounces...

Argh..! wha...? Pop music...caramel light... Bouncy house...?!

"...ALEX!"

Hardly realizing he's just shrieked out loud, Justin comes to his senses all at once, like a drunk confronted with flashing lights and a siren. He's up and moving, stuffing the note and the eye-mask into his pocket for later. Looking around with wide eyes, he jolts to his feet... and promptly falls back down on his ass, betrayed by his own momentum. Luckily, the floor is springy and giving, round rolls of plastic breaking his fall and pushing him back up toward the ceiling. Muttering near-audible obscenities beneath his breath - the majority of them directed toward his darling little sister - he lurches upright again.

This time forewarned, and taking a wide stance, he manages to keep his feet... but it's a near thing, all the same. It's a little like balancing in a rocking canoe, and Justin, who has been blessed with none of the grace his younger siblings seem to posses, doesn't like it. Not even a little. Still absently clutching his blanket... er, his cape... in one hand, he staggers across the fat rolls of wobbling plastic and out the bouncing, swaying "door". It's been edged in imitation sugar icing that sparkles in the light, and the swirly-pop handle is cold and hard in his hand. Still clutching his blanket in one hand, he stumbles out the door and lurches into the light...

He's greeted by a chorus of giggles. The students surrounding him hold lunch trays or shoulder heavy backpacks... and they're everywhere. It's like one of those dreams, he thinks, the kind where your worst fears come true. This is just like that, except not a dream. Justin feels himself flushing red as he takes in his painfully familiar surroundings. He hasn't woken up at the costume shop, as he'd assumed he would, when he found himself in the bouncy house. Instead he's...

At Wiz-Tech?

In his pajamas. Holding his blankie.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

He's going to kill Alex, when he sees her.

Discarding what's left of his pride, Justin balls up the the thing he's holding and flees.

* * *

Alex can't... stop... laughing.

She's standing in the Wiz-Tech commons with an extremely irate big brother, and it's just too good. The fact that they're standing in front of the bounce-house where Justin spent the night... _two nights_ now, she'll have to work that into a clever remark later... only makes it better. The bouncing monstrosity has been hauled - well, flashed - into the commons in preparation for the Masquerade the following night, and in order to facilitate dress rehearsal for the performance she's planning.

Justin's glowering, looking a thousand painful deaths at her with his eyes, arms folded across his chest his posture tight, wearing a look of pissed-offedness she hasn't seen since the time she hid his light-saber. And Alex tries to stop laughing. to compose herself. Really, she tries. But he just looks so... so funny, when he's all mad and serious about it.

Also, he's glaring at her but he's pretty clearly not thinking about Juliet... and Alex is so, so glad. She can't say that to her brother, of course; she can't comfort him or commiserate with him, or tell him he's a sweet guy and he deserves so, so much better than fangy-face has to offer. It's just not the way the do things. There are rules. Lines. So no, she can't tell him that, but she can flash him out of his fever-dreams and misery, and into a fairytale house anytime she wants. Right now, she knows for a fact that he's too busy planning her eventual homicide to think about his vampire girlfriend, and she's glad.

Besides, he'll have to outsmart her if he wants to murder her. And, well, that's just not gonna happen. Sure, Justin has book smarts in that big head of his, but Alex, well, Alex has "stage-your-murder-and-make-it-look-like-an-accident" smarts, and honestly... which skill-set is more useful, in the long run?

Several minutes later, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes and holding in her aching sides, she gasps, "Justin... so nice to see you... with your big-boy clothes on!" trying to keep a straight face.

"Alex, that... what you did,it wasn't funny!" he whisper-shouts, stammering, as if he's still traumatized by the memory of it. The little vein in his temple throbs. "Do you have any idea how foolish you've just made me look in the eyes of the entire faculty?"

"Yeah," she snorts, "That's kind of the funny part."

He glowers at her, but his ire is wasted. "Come on, Justin, you have to admit it was funny."

"I woke up in a children's playhouse...

"Bounce-house," she corrects, but he ignores her.

"...in the middle of the afternoon!"

That sets off a fresh round of convulsions from Alex. "What, so now it's my fault you overslept?" she gasps, choking on her laughter, not even trying to keep a straight face.

"Yes!"

She holds her hands up in a warding-off gesture, her expression struggling, and failing to be innocent. "I set an alarm..."

He cries, "For lunchtime!"

She puts her face in her hands, shaking with laughter. If Justin doesn't want to be pranked, why does it make it so rewarding? Meanwhile, he's still talking, apparently.

"...do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to suddenly be standing in the middle of the school, barely conscious, in my jammies?"

"No," she giggles, "...but I'm guessing you do!" Alex sputters, unable to maintain the weak facade of innocence. She cackles."Hey, at least I gave you jammies! Would you rather go au naturale?"

"They were Mister Nimbus Pajamas!" he explodes, and Alex collapses, shrieking with laughter. Oh god, her sides are going to hurt for this later on.

(It's so worth it.)

* * *

It takes a long time for Alex to wind down. Time in which Justin has time to imagine her death, several times over. "So, if you're completely finished making fun of me..."

She holds out a hand, pretending to stifle more laughter, eyes bright. "Hold up. Wait... wait... Okay. Now I'm done."

"...want to tell me what the big secret is?"

"Big secret?" She looks blank, more so than usual. "What are you talking about?"

"This." Justin holds up a note... tweezed between his second and third fingers. Neat and triangular, it looks a lot like the kind of thing they'd used to make as kids passing notes in class. Well, not that Justin spent a lot of time passing notes in school. But he'd seen it done. The blue-lined notebook paper has been re-folded back into its original neat triangle, creases crisp, with "Justin" scrawled on the front in familiar handwriting. As if he wouldn't have known who it was for, when it fell out of the folds of his cape. Which in itself is a surreal sentence.

_Meet me in the Commons afterschool, Professor. I have something to show you._ She hadn't bothered with a signature, only a postscript: _PS: Bring your costume._

The costume, presumably, had been the cape she'd wrapped him in and the mask he'd still been holding when he woke up. Still sulking, he'd left them behind in his office- stuffed into a deep file drawer. He didn't want to explain his "costume" to anyone who happened to wander into his office.

Alex brightens in recognition. "Oh, hey, that's mine!" She stretches to take it from him, but he pulls back his hand, holding it out of her reach. "Look, Justin, at least this one didn't explode!" she offers. Justin grimaces, obviously remember the one that did.

"How thoughtful of you not to make me explain my exploding correspondence to yet another classroom," he drawls. "And while we're on the subject... Really, Alex?" He wiggles the folded-up note at her. "I mean, a post-it wouldn't have worked? Or a Wiz-mail? What are we, thirteen?"

Without missing a beat, his sister bats her eyelashes at him, purses her lips, and pipes in a schoolgirl falsetto,_ "I like you, do you like me? Check yes or no!"_

Justin rolls his eyes, suppressing a grin. She's ridiculous. But he finds himself laughing anyway, infected by her mirth; Alex just has that effect on people. Especially Justin. She giggles, and there's all at once a lightness between them. A weight, lifting.

Then the bounce-house jiggles, murmuring, and the moment is forgotten as Justin becomes aware of an audience. "Uh, Alex?"

She follows his gaze, but seems unsurprised by the jostling crowd at the windows of the gingerbread house. "That's what I wanted to show you," she says, folding her arms across her chest. " I thought you should know why you're throwing this party. Professor Russo, meet the some of the _street people_ the benefit is for." She gives the moniker a hard emphasis, as if keen to remind him of his bad manners on the night she dropped by to drag him into all this. "Come on," she says more gently, to the bounce-house, "It's alright. He's pretty nice, really. And if he gets out of line, I can totally take him."

Slowly, shyly, the players emerge from the gingerbread house.

It's a small cast, apparently. Very small: all of them under ten, at a guess. A boy of about nine, with the exaggerated facial features of a young ogre and dressed in a costume of worn-looking clothes with oversize patches and ragged sleeves carries an axe that's very obviously a prop ("Woodcutter," Alex tells him in a stage whisper, shielding her mouth with her hand), a girl of roughly the same age, wearing a pointed hat and carrying a broomstick almost as big as she is, ("She's the witch," Alex tells him in the same loud whisper, "but she's also the woodcutter's wife in the first scene.") and finally, a boy a girl who can't be more than six years old, looking worried about the newcomer and the extra attention, emerge from the candy-coated door, holding hands. They look alike enough to be twins, with their dark hair and deep brown eyes. The girl's long curls and the sulky cast of her expression both remind him of Alex at that age, and Justin has to stifle a smile.

"May I present," Alex says in a louder voice, and for the apparent benefit of the twins, rather than her brother, "...Hansel and Gretel."

The players all bow ("Gretel" executing a rather clumsy and extremely adorable "curtsy" in her patchwork skirt), and Justin claps, loudly. His sister smiles at him.

After a little more confusion, Alex hustles all the kids into the padlocked cardboard box that Justin also remembers from the costume shop (with a creepy and cheery call of, "come on kids, into the cage!") to change out of their costumes and back into streetclothes. Justin isn't sure how she's going to fit them all in there, but he doesn't dwell on it.

One of Alex's confederates, a co-worker with pointy ears he doesn't recognize, re-emerges with them a few minutes later, and begins organizing them into a line, lecturing. Something about holding hands and crossing streets and no flashing straight back like you did last time. This seems to be directed at the miniature Gretel, who scowls. "I was just trying not to be late like you said," she protests, but the elf who's in charge of the kids is not impressed.

"This time, we're all going together," she says firmly.

"Hansel" elbows his sister in the ribs, as if to drive home the point. She promptly kicks him, hard. The boy yelps, attracting the attention of their keeper.

"What did we say about being quiet while we're in the big-kid school?" she scolds, and the boy hangs his head. Gretel smirks, and Hansel gives her the back of her head a dirty look.

Justin doesn't ask how they got all those kids and at least one adult into the narrow cardboard box build to house no more than one or two plastic skeletons... but Alex tells him anyway: "It's charmed," she says with more than a touch of pride, as if she'd invented the concept. "It's huge in there."

(Justin rolls his eyes.)

Soon enough, all the tiny players and their minder have left the room- walking, in a line, and talking in their inside voices, because they're in the big-kid school. Nobody kicks anybody else. Nobody flashes out, not even so they can be on time.

The kids are adorable. But Justin is still confused. "So..." he tries, "...you're gonna have the kids perform at the Masquerade?"

Alex nods, unusually taciturn.

"So how, exactly... is that going to help your..." he searches for a word that won't make Alex hit him, "...your clients, the homeless Wizard World people?"

Alex sighs heavily, favoring him with a look that asks, without a word, if it's really possible that they're related. "Those _are_ our Wizard World homeless people, Professor."

Justin is taken aback. "You?" he says, "working with kids? Really? Without, you know, some kind of court-ordered public service involved?"

"That only happened the one time," Alex mutters.

"So, what, you've switched teams now? Weird... I always pictured you working against the poor and downtrodden."

She folds her arms and gives him a sour look, pursing her lips. "I'm just full," she says, "of surprises."

And, honestly, Justin really _is_ surprised. Always, when he pictures the "less fortunate" of the Wizard World, (whom, incidentally, he imagines Alex both fitting in very well with and not really helping all that much), they're, well, adults. And, in Justin's mind, they're adults who have more or less failed at _being_ adults... people who can't get a job, can't hold down a job... who don't have what it takes. That doesn't fit, at all, with the sweet little kids who just trounced out of the room. Justin shakes his head, trying to realign his interior vision with what she's just said, while Alex watches him do it. He isn't having much luck.

"_Those_ kids are homeless? Wizard-World homeless?" He asks, still trying to work it out in a way that makes sense in his head. Kids aren't homeless. Are they? Homeless people are shiftless... and lazy.. and, well, _adult_.

Aren't they?

"Alex," he says, "Where are their parents?"

Alex gives him the look again. The one that says, seriously, are you this stupid? Justin recognizes it, of course. He wears it himself, more or less constantly, when Alex is talking. He's practically got a copyright on it.

"If they had parents," she says, speaking slowly, as if that might help, "they wouldn't be orphans, would they? They probably wouldn't even be homeless. And they definitely wouldn't be in the HH placement program."

"Placement program?"

But her lips clamp shut and a shadow passes across her face. "We're... hoping to facilitate some adoptions," she murmurs, not looking at him anymore.

"Really? Alex, you know how hopeless adoptions in the Wizard world can be. … how is that going to be possible? You know as well as I do how rare Wizard World adoptions are - I mean, Hugh was the only adopted Wizard kid I ever met, and he was adopted by _giants_. When the kid is magical really plays hell with the family Wizard competitions for one thing, not to mention all the taboo about mixing certain bloodlines… all in all, it's almost impossible. You know that. Everyone does."

Alex nods. She's looking at the toes of her boots, which have apparently become extremely fascinating since the last time Justin had a good look at them. They spend a little time like that, awkward and still- then Alex straightens up, beaming, and asks in what has to be the least-subtle change-of-subject ever: "So! Where's the costume I told you to bring?"

Justin groans.


	8. Chapter 8

"Alex, No. I don't know what you think you're going to do with all this stuff, which is not a costume by the way, but you're definitely not going to do it to me."

"Yeah, you'd be surprised how often I hear that, " Alex muses, "...and how seldom it turns out to be true." She's already reaching for her wand. They're standing together in the student commons of Wiz-Tech, in front of the empty bounce-house, bounceless now that the children have gone.

Justin looks sulky. "It's not gonna work, Alex. I just told you, I didn't bring them."

"Oh," says his sister, nodding in complete understanding. "Geez, that's too bad."

Justin feels a sense of relief. "And," he says, smugly, "I know you're too lazy to go and get them."

She nods sadly. "Yeah. It's too bad I can't just, I don't know, bring them to me. You know, like magic?" She pretends to have a realization then, her eyes popping and her mouth open wide, "Oh... wait!" And with a dramatic flourish and a brief flash of blue light, the heavy cape and the sadly crumpled mask appear in Justin's hands.

(Sometimes, he really hates her.)

Alex smiles, sweetly. "C'mon, Professor. The kids are all costumed up. Let's see what we can do about you."

* * *

"No. Besides, where exactly do you suggest we do this, Alex? This isn't exactly a great place for-"

"Right here. Come on." Grasping his upper arm, she steers him toward the inflatable candy house. Justin yanks himself out of her grip.

"Alex, no," he says firmly (again). "That thing is unstable... and I don't exactly have fond memories of my little, uh, nap there... and there aren't even any curtains, not real ones, and just... Alex, just no."

She rolls her eyes, and renews her vice-like grip on his arm. "Don't worry, Justin- I won't force you to endure the children's playhouse," she reassures him with sarcastic emphasis, dragging him past it. "We're going in there."

But... what she's saying doesn't make sense. Parked just beyond the bouncy-house is the oversize cardboard box decorated to look like the ramshackle cage/box the witch kept Hansel in... apparently Alex lifted that from the costume shop as well. "You want me to go in that thing? Alex, there's no way that-"

But evidently Alex had seen this coming, because by now she's hauled him all the way to the creepy, half-open door of the thing. Just as he's telling her there's no possible way he's going in that thing, Alex nudges the door aside with her food, and shoves him in.

In the confines of the box, Justin has a moment of real fear. It's all out of proportion to the fact of Alex pushing him around, which he's more or less used to - no, inside the box his reality shifts and twists, and he's Hansel-in-the-cage, a little boy again and a helpless one at that, trapped by a woman as old as she is evil, who definitely means him no good. Like Hansel, he has no weapon against the darkness within the cage or without it... nothing to save himself with but the love and quick wits of a little sister, against the greed of the witch. Justin feels himself dwarfed, made small by the literal manifestation of the fairy tale... and he feels afraid.

Then there's a soft click as Alex turns on the lights, and the fantasy pops like a bubble and disappears, even from memory.

The space on the other side of the cage door is amazing. Just through the door (still ajar) that is at once solid and illusory, it opens up into a long, narrow room, with walls the color of the cardboard but patterned in a twisting vinelike motif in dark green that crawls up the walls, lending an organic feel to the room. At a closer look, there are words, even whole phrases, worked into what at first glance appears to be a chaotic design: Justin picks out "Once upon a time" and "Happily ever after," among others. Fairytale words.

There are fairy-lights hanging from the low ceiling, too, the kind you see at Christmas, draped in slightly uneven rows, crisscrossed. They give the room a quietly festive feel, and make the lighting soft. Dressing tables in various states of chaos, spread with makeup and slung with discarded costumes, line the walls, alternating with long mirrors in which the actor being prepared for the stage could ostensibly see himself all at once. Recessed into the wall are more lights, presumably for when mood lighting isn't enough, but they're still off.

Folding screens stand here and there in pairs, forming little boxes which would provide a little privacy (very little) for changing clothes. The sides of screens are draped in left-behind costumes and forgotten props, their facades painted with storybook characters in bright primary colors. Witches and beanstalks crouch in wait, while princesses in towers wait for rescue.

"Alex," Justin breathes. "How did you manage all this?"

"Huh?" She's behind him, shutting the door to the outside world, standing in the unstable space in which Justin can almost see, if he squints hard, the bare cardboard interior that a mortal would see, if they were to look into the enchanted room. Then she shuts the door, and it's gone. "Oh. Well, I don't know if you heard about this, Justin, but I'm actually the family Wizard." With a hand on his low back, she propels him forward. "C'mon. I've got something I want you to try on."

* * *

"Et Voila!" she crows a little later, affecting a terrible accent, obviously trying not to look too pleased with the way he's turned out.

It's taken a little while (and a little more bullying on Alex's part), but with some creative tucking and pinning, only minimal help from her wand, and a few quiet threats to her brother about what she'll do to him if he doesn't for the love of peace and justice hold STILL Alex makes Justin into a very passable hero.

He's inspecting her handiwork in the mirror, while Alex crowds him.

She's replaced his work clothes with linen and leather, dressed him almost entirely in black. The pants are a close but flattering fit, emphasizing the lean length of his legs without making him seem too skinny, and the linen shirt is billowy and soft in a way that Justin supposes is meant to be romantic. It laces from throat to mid-chest, like a pirate's, the long sleeves leading to ornamented gauntlets. She's gloved his hands. Even his feet are dressed up, the knee-length black leather boots Alex had insisted on shining in the fairylight. The cape he's been dragging around with him practically all day has been unrolled and put to; with a little help from her wand, Alex has edged it in gold, and added a little gold chain to clasp it shut. There's more gold in the form of an oversize, scrollwork 'Z' that graces his belt, and the matching one on his broad-brimmed hat.

And he's wearing the mask, of course; the one Alex had escaped the costume store with after they'd been caught. The one she'd tucked into his hand while he was asleep and helpless. It's a bit crumpled and sad-looking from so much hard travel, and Justin doesn't really understand why they can't use another... but Alex insists. After all, if they don't, the trip the costume shop will have been wasted. Which makes a certain sort of sense.

Alex hands him a long fencing sword that ends in an ornate curving handle, and Justin poses with it. He isn't sure how he feels about the hat, but he likes the sword quite a bit.

She beams. "You almost look like somebody cool!" She smiles at Justin in the mirror, and he gives her a dirty look. "Keep your mouth shut, and you might not ruin the illusion!"

Justin scowls at her, and tries not to look impressed. Really, she has a talent for this. But all the same, he feels like a child, all dressed up in clothes that aren't his. Like he should be asking strangers for candy. "I look ridiculous, Alex," he growls. He struggles to keep the whine out of his voice, but it's there. He reaches for the tied ends of the rag-mask, meaning to yank it off and toss it into a corner or something. Alex's hands fly up to cover his, preventing the unmasking.

"Justin, please?" You have to dress up or it'll look weird." She gives him a pleading look (patented) and Justin feels his resolve melt a little. Damn her and her puppydog eyes! His relaxes a little, and Alex takes the opportunity to pry his hands away from his face, dragging them down and between them. "And, I kind of told everybody you were all into it, and it was your idea...? So, if you don't even dress up, well, it'll look like I forced you to host the party. And I guess I could get in trouble or whatever?"

Justin thinks about pointing out that this is, actually, more or less the case- but he can't bring himself to do it. She's standing there looking at him with those damned eyes of hers, and he hears himself mutter, "Fine... if it'll get you off my back," in what must be the lamest attempt at face saving ever, and his little sister smiles at him.

Then there's a change in the air, and Justin realizes he's standing here holding hands with Alex while she looks up into his face and they're alone in here and nobody even knows where they are... his throat feels tight. He drops her hands like they're burning him, and more or less sprints backward about two feet.

It must look pretty funny, because Alex is looking at him pretty funny, and Justin in a rising panic says the first thing that comes to mind: "I... I'm thinking that I'm gonna ask Juliet to come to the Masq with me."

Alex's face clouds. "You're what?"

* * *

Alex's brain is working slow, that must be it. She can't have heard that right. Her face darkens as she tries to process what she's just heard fall out of her brother's mouth. _"You're what?"_

"Uh, yeah, I was thinking I'd bring her..." Justin's looking pretty sheepish, and Alex catches on quick: they're pretending that the toothy bitch he lives with never dumped him three nights ago. And Justin's really bad at pretending. He's probably really embarrassed. Right. So the situation calls for delicacy and tact.

Alex snatches the Zorro sword back, and snaps, "What are you _talking_ about? Pollyanna's supposed to be halfway to Pennsylvania by then!

_Oops._

Yeah, so the whole tact-and-subtlety thing has never really been Alex's strong point? But maybe it didn't sound as bad out loud as it had in her head? Yeah, no. One look at Justin's grim, grey face sort of kills that idea. It had sounded bad out loud too.

There's this weird moment. Then Justin says, kind of quiet, "So you heard, huh?" and then, after a beat in which Alex doesn't respond, he adds, "And it's _Transylvania_, Alex," sounding offended. He does peel off the eye-mask then, folding it neatly with typical annoying Justin-ness, before tucking it away into a pocket.

Alex throws her hands in the air, exasperated (and narrowly missing Justin with the business end of the safety pin, but he ducks in time). "Who _cares_ where it is, Justin! The point is that your cheating vampire girlfriend is about to take pack up your heart and fly away with it like a bigass bird, probably on those creepy bat-wings of hers, and meanwhile you're acting like a junior high school kid who's trying to get a cheerleader to go on a second date! Grow a set! She's gone, dude!"

Justin reddens, embarrassed and angry and pink. "How did you even find out, Alex? I sure didn't confide in you, and it's not like Juliet would have- Alex, if you used some kind of truth spell on me while I was asleep...!"

"It wasn't anything like that," she hurries to tell him (although it's not a bad idea - she puts that away for the future) "...Mason told me."

It's Justin's turn to look suspicious. "So you and Mason are...?"

"No! We're not!" _Gross!_ Alex takes a deep breath. "Look, Justin. Mason came by to see if I..." almost too late, she swallows the words on the tip of her sharp tongue. _To see if I was interested in sloppy seconds_ or something in that general neighborhood had been her first impulse, and even Alex knows that probably wouldn't go over very well. (See, she can have a filter.) (When she needs one).

"...to see if I had a date for Halloween," she improvises quickly. "...and I told him I was busy. For like the next 30 years."

Justin nods grimly. "Good."

Alex feels a vague sense of satisfaction in his response, but she pushes it away. "Anyway, Justin, dog-boy isn't the point. The point is, why are you doing this? Are you getting back together?"

Now it's Justin who finds his shoes interesting. "We didn't decide that. But this will give us a little more time to talk, and-

"What, so she's gonna leave you _after_ the party?"

Justin rounds on her. "Why do you have to be so _cynical_ about everything!"

Alex feels her hands squeeze into tight fists at her sides, like they want to hit something. "Gosh, Justin, I don't know," she says, with false calm bordering on violence. "Why do you have to be such a sucker? Can't you see what she is?"

"She's my girlfriend, Alex! I love her!"

"Yeah, well she doesn't..." the words, _'doesn't love you'_ die in her throat, and Alex pretends to cough, choking on them. "...she doesn't deserve you, Justin," she says instead, startling herself, badly. "I mean, uh. She doesn't... seem to appreciate it, you, is what I mean. Yeah, that's what I meant."

Justin's unfastening the cape from his shoulders, fumbling with the chain, seeming not to hear, as he peels off the little bits of the costume that he can. "I should have known you wouldn't understand, Alex."

"Understand what? Being so stupid over somebody that you don't know what you're doing?" (No, the irony isn't lost on her.)

Justin tosses the cape over the table, where it lands with a flourish... then, being Justin, he follows it and folds it up. Angrily. She's never seen anybody fold in a way that expresses fury before, but Justin's doing it. "I shouldn't have expected you to know what it's like to be in love."

She stares at him. "You know what, Justin? You're, just... I don't know why I bother with helping you!"

"Good," he says, not quite yelling,"Maybe this would be a good time for you to _stop_. Seeing as how your "help" hasn't really worked out for me so far!"

"Whatever," says Alex, turning her back on him. Her eyes hurt. "I'll see you at the Masq. Wear your stupid costume, Stupid."

"Fine."

_"Fine!"_

There's a brief flash of golden light, and then the room feels empty, and she's alone. In the silence and the hurting, she notices that the woods are back, and she's lost in them again.


End file.
